A Wrench in My Nonexistent Plans
by kitcat234
Summary: Hermione is in a job she hates; George is in a depression that no one can pull him out of; Both want to be saved, yet both want to be left alone. What happens when they are forced to be together? It certainly gets in the way of plans! Marriage Law.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This is my first fan fiction. Please let me know what you think. Opinions and reviews are valued. And, _obviously_, I'm not J.K. Rowling. And any non-canon characters are simply characters. If someone reads this and has a name I use, my bad.

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To many, at 19 years old, you have barely accomplished anything. You are finding your way in the world and discovering who you are and what you want to do with your life. At 19, you opinions don't matter as much as those who have "been around." In the grand scheme of things, you're in the background – the understudy to a minor character.

This did not apply, in any sense, to the life of Hermione Granger. To anyone who knew her growing up, she was a bright and ambitious child. When she got her Hogwarts letter at 11, her family knew she was off to make them proud, even if they couldn't be a part of her other world. By her first year, she had helped her two best friends through a series of magical obstacles that were set for full-grown wizards. By fourth year, she had discovered Salazaar Slytherin's secret monster, had gone through time to save innocent lives, and was the driving force behind Harry Potter surviving the Triwizard Tournament. By seventh year, she had not only battled dark wizards and full-fledged Death Eaters many times, but she was one of the trio that led to the downfall of He Who Must Not Be Named, and led the wizarding world to a peace that had not been seen for many years.

At nineteen, Hermione felt her life was at a standstill. Her life leading up to this point had been so dangerous and hectic, but at least there was always something happening, something to look out for. Now she was in a mundane job, terribly bored with her life, and on the brink of depression. What had happened? She knew the answer to that – all the danger had been removed, and in her struggle to find a new meaning to her life, she got lost.

"Granger, remember, that report has to be in by five."

She sighed and looked up at the man at her cubicle. Andrew Wright stood, in his black pinstripe cloak with his overly gelled hair, tapping his foot impatiently for the fourth time that day. He was short, at 5 foot 3, and made up for it by being as pompous and arrogant as possible. Hermione would have called it the Napoleon Complex, but she knew a snide historical reference would be lost on those in the wizarding world.

"Yes, I know Andrew. I'm almost done. It's just terribly difficult to try to finish it when I'm constantly interrupted."

"Who's interrupting you? Don't they understand how important this is? Tell them to bugger off."

If only.

"Thank you Andrew, I'll get right on that."

'Thankfully, that man is so obtuse he doesn't even catch my sarcasm,' thought Hermione as Andrew left with an unneeded flourish of his cloak.

This job was probably one of the main things in Hermione's life that was bringing her down. After all her work for Hagrid trying to get Buckbeak freed, and her constant efforts on S.P.E.W., Hermione thought working in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was the place for her. Unfortunately, she should have paid a _bit_ more attention to the name. "Regulation and Control" was certainly right. Her proposal for hippogriffs to be labeled as "Somewhat Dangerous Creatures" instead of their present "Highly Dangerous Creatures" status was simply tossed out, and her plea for house elf freedom and subsequent payment was laughed at. Her dream of changing the world and making it a fairer and happier place for magical beasts and beings was being crushed in front of her daily. It felt like someone had given her a backstage tour of an amusement park as a present, and had subsequently shown her that all the magic and beauty was fabricated, and that the park was run by people who hated children.

Now she was stuck as a low-ranking member of staff whose job it was to write memos and reports on things the higher-ups were too lazy to read on their own.

Merlin, she hated this job. She wished she could just have a little excitement, something to toss up her mundane existence.

She should have been careful what she wished for.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Still not Rowling. Please review with (non-abrasive) opinions!

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George was tired.

Tired of having nightmares every night about his twin's death. Tired of wanting to break down every time he saw their shop, their apartment, their shared bedroom at the Burrow. Tired of people skirting him, not knowing whether to talk to him or leave him alone. Tired of people avoiding him because they didn't know how to treat him, now that he was only half of "The Weasley Twins."

That's how it had always been. They were like one entity from the beginning. He didn't think people even took a breath between "Fred and George." It was always "FredandGeorge," one person, one cyclone of pranks and trouble. Now that it was just "George," people didn't know what to do.

'Hell,' he thought, 'I don't even know what to do.'

He thought about how his life had been since that fateful night two years ago. Seeing his brother lying there, cold as ice, still with a smile on his face, left him broken. He had wanted to die, right then and there, just to be with his twin again. After that, it had been like someone had put an ice-cold clamp on his heart and mind. Every thought was tinged with anger or hurt, every positive emotion was wiped away.

He dealt with the loss, the hurt, and the terror all on his own. No one knew about how much it hurt him every day, to wake up in their apartment over their store, and not see Fred's smiling face, ready to try their newest pranks on Ron or Percy. How he dreamt every night of Fred, falling from the impact of the explosion, with that ghost of a laugh on his face, their eyes connecting before they went glassy. How Fred talked to him every night in the dream, right before the fall. It was always the same thing: "Save me, George, save you." This confused him at first, for why would Fred ask George to save himself? After a couple months of frustrated and fruitless speculation, he gave up on the meaning. It was a dream, after all.

From the outside looking in, George was a stoic. Nothing fazed him, no emotion was ever shown. George thought it was easier this way. He didn't want their pity. He just wanted his brother and his best friend back. He showed up for Sunday dinners at the Burrow, but only out of habit. Everything was a habit these days, from his getting ready in the morning, to working all day, to taking lunch at the same day every day, to going to the Burrow and getting through the meal as quietly and quickly as possible.

He didn't even enjoy work anymore. He had handed over Fred's half of the ownership of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes to Lee Jordan, who took care of everything in the front of the house. George couldn't stand to go into the overly bright and cheerful showroom that housed all of their inventions. He preferred nowadays to stay in the dark inventing room or to do bills in the small office. He was inventing still, but it was a much less exuberant array of products. These ranged from further developments of protective accessories, for which the Ministry still had use, to the truly involved pranks that required complicated spellwork and months of work on one item at a time. These were merely just to pass the time, though. The constant working meant his life still had a shred of purpose and it kept him knowing which day was which.

There was a small part of him that still acted as though he was talking to Fred. He supposed it was his conscience, but it wasn't a very good one. It gave him all the mischievous thoughts that he was trying so desperately to suppress these days.

'You know, you are really terribly boring these days. _Another shield cloak? _Really?'

'Shutup,' he snapped at the voice in his head, 'I don't need any shit from you today. I'm having a bad enough day as it is.'

'Oh yeah? And how is that possible? This day has been like every other day for the past two years.'

'How would you-'

'- Know? I'm in your head, for Merlin's sake!'

'Oh bugger off.'

'Suit yourself, but you really should change things up a bit. You're getting terribly dull.'

'Yeah right,' though George angrily, 'Like anything will change.'


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Still not Rowling. And still not trying to steal people's identities.

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As Hermione sat at her desk a few days later, two owls flew in, dropping letters for her just as an interdepartmental memo zoomed onto her desk. The memo was from Andrew, pestering her for a report she had already turned in.

'We're not back in primary school, Andrew,' she thought, 'I'm not going to let you cheat off my paper because you're scared of the professor.'

She threw it into the trashcan, which gulped it down and belched. The second letter was from Mrs. Weasley, asking her to come to dinner that Sunday. Hermione felt terrible for having been absent from the Weasley Sunday dinners for so long. As awful as this job was, it kept her busy. So busy, in fact, that she had not made it to dinner for the past six months. She was beginning to feel estranged from her second family. She pulled out a stray piece of parchment, and wrote hurriedly,

_Thank you so much for the invitation, Mrs. Weasley. _

_I will be over at 5 o'clock on Sunday night. _

_Much love, _

_Hermione_

'There,' she thought, 'Now I have plans that will get me out of any overtime they might try to force on me.' She sent the letter off with Zephyrus, the owl that had replaced Errol when he had flown his last.

The final letter was a very official looking one with the Ministry's seal on it. Wondering if she was in trouble, Hermione opened the letter.

_Dear Hermione Jean Granger:_

_A new law has been enacted by the Wizengamot that requires all unmarried or unengaged men and women from the ages of eighteen to thirty to marry. In the regard of time, the Ministry has done several tests in order to assign to you a companion that is your best match. We have attempted to narrow the selection of your future spouse to those you are familiar with (e.g. went to school with) and are in a similar age range. The law states that the couple must get married within two months of receiving your match, and the marriage must be consummated in the first six months of marriage. The couple must have a child within the first two years of marriage. If these actions are not taken by the allotted time period, a ministry official will be sent to your place of residence to issue further and more serious warnings. This is in an effort to repopulate the dwindling magical population, after the severe damage of two years ago._

_You will be receiving a letter in two days time with the name of your Ministry-chosen match._

_Hoping you are well,_

_Lucinda Leatherby_

_Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

Hermione's mind went blank in horror. Marriage? To someone who she might possibly know? Worst-case scenarios began in her head. Justin Finch-Fletchley? Roger Davies? Cormac McLaggen? Seamus Finnegan? Blaise Zabini? Malfoy?

She shuddered. She would rather have Cormac over Malfoy any day.

'Well,' she thought despondently, 'What a way to shake up dinner at the Burrow."

And with that thought, she packed up her work and headed to the lifts, cursing the ridiculously named Lucinda Leatherby and the horrible Wizengamot for disrupting her perfectly fine life alone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Not Rowling. Please review :)

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George stared at the letter in his hand, allowing his disbelief to show since no one was around. Phrases jumped out at him.

_R__equires all unmarried or unengaged men and women from the ages of eighteen to thirty to marry… _

_Assign to you a companion that is your best match… _

_Must get married within two months of receiving your match… _

_Marriage must be consummated in the first six months… _

_Must have a baby within the first two years of marriage…_

How was this possible? How could Shacklebolt let this happen? As Minister of Magic and being far more capable than Fudge or Scrimgeour, George had never imagined something as ridiculous as government-arranged marriages would occur. Then his mind raced back to the letter.

_Assign to you a companion that is your best match… _

'How would they know who my best match is?' George thought, 'I don't even know who I am anymore, so how would they know?'

George fumed and paced across the floor of their… _his_ apartment. This was absolutely ridiculous. Could he refuse? Could he run away and move to some foreign country?

"Yes," George thought aloud, "I'll run away and hide as a muggle. They would never be able to find me. But where else speaks English? Will I have to move to the United States?" Pictures of overly tan movie stars with bright white teeth and heavy people in lines at amusement parks suddenly filled his mind. George shuddered. "Okay, scratch that. Errr…I could hide in muggle London. That's it!"

'Dearie,' his mirror spoke in a gramndmotherly voice, 'You couldn't stop being a wizard. And your mother would kill you if you didn't show up for Sunday dinners.'

Bollocks. He hated when inanimate objects had more logic than him.

That reminded him. 'Dinner on Sunday… What day was it?' He glanced apathetically at the calendar.

"SUNDAY? IT'S SUNDAY? CRAP! What time is it?" He searched for his watch, which had gone missing earlier and he had not bothered to retrieve it. Holding it up and peering at the face, he realized he was about to be late. "CRAP!" And with a turn and a _crack!_, he was gone.

…..

George appeared at the end of the lane that wound its way down to the Burrow. He took a second to collect himself and again resume the stoic mask he always wore. Just as he started walking, he heard a _crack!_ behind him. He didn't bother turning around to see who it was. It wasn't who he wanted it to be. It never was.

He heard running footsteps and someone out of breath catch up to him.

"Hi George."

It was Hermione. This surprised him, and he had to restrain himself showing it. She hadn't shown up in almost seven months. Not that he'd been counting. He just liked seeing someone that wasn't redheaded and didn't remind him of his twin. He turned his head and nodded almost imperceptibly, and they walked on in silence.

Somehow Hermione had always seemed different than anyone else he or his family was friends with. She had always been a bossy, frizzy-haired know-it-all through school, but she had lightened up considerably as she got older. His mind flashed back to his unfinished seventh year…

…..

_Fred and George were planning a spectacular prank on the old toad, but they needed someone else to help them. Someone who wouldn't be suspected. They heard footsteps walking past the broom cupboard they were concealed in. Fred whipped open the door and pulled the unsuspecting student inside._

"_WHAT IN THE –!" A hand was clamped over her mouth._

"_Lumos." A small light brightened the small cupboard, showing a small figure clamped in Fred's grip with her mouth covered._

"_Hermione?" two voices said. Fred let go of her, but maintained a hold on her mouth, knowing that some angry diatribe about following rules was bound to burst forth._

"_Granger," George said quietly to her, "We need your help, but most of all we need you to be quiet. If Fred lets go, will you promise not to yell?"_

_A glare was shot his way, but then she nodded. Fred let her go._

"_Jeez Fred!" she whispered angrily, "Did you have to hold me that hard?"_

"_Oh I know you were thrilled to be in my sexy and muscular arms," he smirked, "I knew you couldn't resist me."_

_As she stepped down hard on his foot, both Hermione and George struggled to resist laughing as Fred hopped in place in a silent scream._

"_W-w-well," George tried to say as seriously as possible while trying to choke back laughter, "We need your help with a prank."_

"_George!" whispered Hermione harshly, "You know I – "_

"_It's against the toad."_

"_I'm in."_

_They had succeeded with one of their favorite pranks of the year. They had broken into Umbridge's office and had charmed her floor to maintain its solid appearance, all the while concealing a chute that dumped Umbridge into the lake if she tried to walk in. It had required much complicated charm and transfiguration work, but between the three of them, they had done it. And spectacularly. It was hard to restrain their laughter as Umbridge walked into the Great Hall, fuming and covered in weeds and mud, with suction marks all over her body._

"_It-it looks like the Giant Squid made a new friend," Hermione said through stifled laughter._

"_You know what, Granger? You're not such a goody two-shoes after all. You're alright," said George, smiling at her red cheeks and sparkling eyes._

"_Thanks George. You're not so bad yourself."_

…..

Somehow she had always known how to tell them apart, and he had no idea how she did it. Even his family could never tell him and Fred apart.

He smiled slightly to himself as he walked in companionable silence next to her.

Hermione, unbeknownst to George, had seen his smile. She smiled to herself. He could be saved from this depression. The old George was still there, somewhere.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: ** Not Rowling, but would appreciate reviews. Much thanks!

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As soon as George and Hermione opened the gate to the Weasley garden, a red-headed figure zoomed out of the house and enveloped the two in a hug.

"Hermione! And George, dear! You made it! Oh, I'm so glad!" Mrs. Weasley finally freed the two from her clutches and held Hermione out at arm's length.

"Oh dear, it's been too long! And you've gotten so tiny! Has that horrid job of yours been starving you? Look at you: you look dead on your feet! We'll just need to fix that!"

"Hi, Mrs. Weasley. How are you?" said Hermione, finally able to interject.

"Oh, it's Molly, dear. I keep telling you! And I'm fine, dear, just fine." Mrs. Weasley looked around for where her middle child had gone, but he had disappeared. Mrs. Weasley sighed. "He's probably in the garden again. Oh well, I just hope he'll say something tonight. Anything." Mrs. Weasley walked into the Burrow again, with Hermione following.

When Hermione walked into the kitchen, she was immediately hailed by her three best friends, plus other Weasley family members. Ginny had thrown herself into Hermione's arm and promptly had hugged the breath out of her. She then put on her best Mrs. Weasley impression and scolded Hermione for being a recluse. Harry had to drag Ginny away to stop her ranting, and then had given Hermione a hug. Ron simply smiled from the table, as he was busy eating his pre-dinner dinner. Mr. Weasley, Bill, Fleur, baby Victoire, and Charlie all smiled and said a quick hello to her before resuming their conversation.

Hermione overheard Charlie saying angrily, "This marriage law is absolutely ridiculous! There are so many faults! What if happily dating someone and the Ministry broke it up? What if I was about to propose?"

"Seeing as you're single, and have been for years, I don't think that's too much of a worry for you, mate," countered Bill.

"That's not the point!" argued Charlie, "The point is that that could happen to someone!"

Hermione jumped into the conversation so as to help avoid a Weasley row. Charlie's ears were already as red as his hair. "So when are we supposed to be getting the info on who we are supposed to be marrying?"

"Tonight, around dinnertime, is what I've heard," said Mr. Weasley, taking off his glasses and polishing them in thought. "I'm just worried that the Wizengamot didn't think this law through too much."

"That's because they're all over the age limit, so they don't have to worry about it!" Charlie half-yelled.

"DINNER!" yelled Mrs. Weasley, giving Charlie a stern look.

…..

As the dishes were being cleared and dessert was being brought out, many people were preoccupied as the time for the letters drew near.

...

Ginny was terrified. 'How can they tear Harry and me apart? I just got him back! They can't do this to me! They just can't! If they don't match us together, I'm going to go down to the Ministry and Bat Bogey Hex every single member of the Wizengamot. And the people who ran the tests. And the Law Enforcement Office. And Shacklebolt for good measure. How could Kingsley let this happen? This is awful. This is terrible…'

…

Harry was sure he was going to be with Ginny. 'I finally got Ginny back after thinking I was going to die. All I want is to have a normal life with the woman I love. How could the Ministry and whatever tests they did not see that they were perfect for each other? Ginny was perfect.'

…

Ron was the only single person present that was cool and collected, besides George, but no one counted on him for emotion these days. Ron was sure and confident about whom his match would be. Hadn't she been hinting for years that she liked him? Even through all of the arguments, fights, and screaming matches, hadn't she always been there? Hadn't she kissed him two years ago? Sure, he had never made a move, but it was because he wasn't as smooth as his brothers. And sure, he had barely talked to her in the past couple months, but they were both busy. What could you expect? 'Harry and Ginny have kept up with her,' a small voice in his head said. But Ron quickly disregarded this. He was much busier than they were. He knew he would be with her. He just knew.

…

Hermione was terribly nervous, but she was trying to suppress it by keeping herself as busy as possible by helping Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen. She just hoped she wasn't matched with someone terrible. There was a part of her that wondered if they would pair her with Ron. A few years ago, this prospect would have thrilled her and she would have turned into a giggling schoolgirl at the thought of marrying her longtime crush. But she had grown up. She had realized he was never going to make a move, and she was glad he wouldn't. She had always hated fighting with him, and being married to him? The fighting would never stop. She wondered, but at the same time, tried to suppress her fears. There was nothing she could do about it now. She was just relying on luck and good fortune.

…

George was still and silent in the kitchen. Despite the outward appearance of a statue, on the inside, thoughts were rocketing around so quickly he was surprised his head hadn't burst. He had no idea who he would be paired with, and he was terribly uncomfortable with the idea of having to marry in general. That meant talking to the other person, being around another person, being intimate with another person. He wasn't sure he could do this. Two years ago, he would have strutted around, smirking from the knowledge that it would be his job to woo a girl he would be set up with, like a blind date. It would have been a lovely challenge on which he and Fred would make bets. But not anymore. Now, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to show any emotion. Maybe he had gotten so involved about keeping his emotions inside that he wouldn't be able to ever express them.

'Oi! Forge! Stop feeling so sorry for yourself!' the Fred-like voice in his head said.

'I'm not feeling sorry for myself. I'm – '

'Overwhelmed? Having too many feelings? Man up, mate! This will be just like the old days! You get to bring out our signature moves!'

'I can't. I don't want to be with anyone. I want to be left the hell alone! Why can't everyone understand that?' George thought angrily.

'Mate, you can't be angry forever.'

'Watch me.'

…..

Just as everyone was getting too anxious to stand it, six owls flew in the open window, dropped a letter in front of their appointed person, and flew out. Silence filled the small kitchen as everyone stared at the letters.

"W-well, no need to draw this out any longer," said Mrs. Weasley in a falsely cheerful voice. "Everyone open your letters."

Ginny had already ripped at the envelope as Harry opened his with an expression of forced calm. A shriek shattered the silence. Ginny propelled herself into Harry's arms, sobbing.

"What? What happened?" Mrs. Weasley said, worrying. Mr. Weasley picked up Ginny's discarded letter. "They've been matched together. Ginny just worried herself too much."

At such good news, three other letters were ripped open.

"**WHAT?**"

Everyone turned to look at Ron. Everyone, that is, except George, who was still staring at his letter.

"How is this possible? No, no, this is not true! This is just not true!" Ron was bright red as he stormed over to Hermione and wrenched the letter out of her hand. His mouth promptly fell open as he read the two words written on her paper. The room went silent as everyone looked at Ron.

"You," Ron said, his eyes burning and his voice full of anger. Everyone looked in the direction he was looking; he was glaring at George, who was showing emotion for the first time in months. The two Weasleys stared at each other, one in fury and the other in shock, as everyone looked on confusedly.

Ron threw himself at George, trying desperately to punch anything he could reach, all the while shouting. "She was supposed to be mine! She's supposed to be with me! How dare you take her away from me! You fucking asshole! She's mine!"

Everyone stood frozen in shock as George finally pinned Ron against the wall with a strength no one knew he possessed. George spoke, his voice rough and raspy from disuse, full of an unbidden rage.

"How dare you act like she's a possession. She didn't choose this, and neither did I; the Ministry did. You never made a move, so how was the Ministry to know you wanted her? You're not good enough for her anyways. She's not a toy someone stole from you in daycare, Ron. She's a person – a person who you are not worthy even to look at if you talk about her like that."

He let go of Ron, and let him drop to the ground. George turned to see everyone staring at him in shock. He turned to Mrs. Weasley.

"Thanks for dinner, Mum. I'll see you all next Sunday." He turned and walked out of the Burrow.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **Not Rowling, but would love reviews. Thanks for reading!

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George walked quickly out of the Burrow, not wanting his façade to crack anymore than it just had. Why had he snapped like that? He knew everything he had said about her was true – she was too good for Ron and always had been. He had seen Ron looking slavishly at her when he thought no one was looking. She was simply too clever, too nice, too pretty, and too good for the likes of his worthless brother.

'Whoa there! Where did that come from? Did you just call Miss Prissy Perfect Prefect pretty?'

'Did I?,' George wondered. 'Do I really think that? I mean, I know she's much too smart for that idiot, but where did the rest of that come from?'

But another small voice spoke in his mind. 'You've always thought she was too good for Ron, George. And Krum and Cormac and all the other boys that secretly drooled after her. Especially that git Malfoy. He thought no one knew, but you had overheard him talking to Zabini before about how he hated how much he liked the stupid mudblood. Every time you heard the other boys talking about her crudely, you wanted to defend her, didn't you, George?'

The Fred-like voice rang out again. "Okay, maybe there's that, but c'mon mate, this is Granger we're talking about. The one who never thought we were funny; the one who tried to put us in detention constantly.'

'Yeah,' thought George, 'But she did help us with that prank seventh year, and she has lightened up a lot since.'

'Georgie, are you serious? Do you really think you have a chance with –'

"Hermione," George said in shock, as he felt a gentle hand on his arm, pulling him from his internal dialogue.

She looked nervous, as though worried he might get angry again.

"I wanted to thank you for defending me back there. I was really hurt by what Ron said and I really appreciate it. I…errrr…yeah," fading off, somewhat lamely.

"No problem," he grunted, trying to think of a way to leave quickly, while at the same time, subconsciously thinking how soft her hand was against his arm.

"I hope you're not upset with me," she said quietly.

George jerked his head around to look at her, shock once again registering on his face.

"Why would I be mad at you?"

"Because you got me…" Hermione said quietly, sounding like she was trying to hold her voice steady.

"Hermione, you know this wasn't your fault. It was the Ministry who thinks we're a match. And you're brilliant. It should be me who is apologizing."

'Oi! Where did that come from?' shouted the voice in his head, which George desperately tried to suppress as Hermione had resumed talking.

"Well, thanks very much again, George. I know you're dying to get away, so I'll let you go, but thank you." She smiled at him, gave his arm a quick squeeze, and began walking back to the Burrow.

George's mind was suddenly working in slow motion. As she was almost out of hearing range, he said, "Goodbye Hermione," thinking she wouldn't hear him.

She turned around and gave him a soft smile before disappearing into the quickly-falling darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **If I was Rowling, I would have had the GW/HG ship from the beginning. So obviously I'm not. Reviews are much appreciated. Enjoy!

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Two weeks had gone by, and thankfully the drama Ron had created had calmed down. He was not happy about his pairing with Luna Lovegood, but the rest of the family all secretly thought it was a brilliant decision. Nothing could faze that girl; she was spacey yet strong enough to not let Ron get away with his out of control temper and often mean behavior. The night of the arrival of the letters, Mrs. Weasley had immediately started with wedding preparation, even though the couples had two months. Harry and Ginny's wedding was set for almost a month from the day of the letters arriving, which was also the night Harry pulled out a stunning diamond ring and proposed to Ginny in front of the whole family, as he had been planning to do for months. Charlie had stopped ranting about the unfairness of the law as soon as he saw his chosen fiancée was the girl he fancied from work named Mckenna Wallace, a fiery and ambitious Scot who was the best member of their team in Romania. The relationship between George and Hermione had barely furthered after that fateful night two weeks ago, but Hermione was desperate to at least get George talking again.

It was Sunday afternoon at the Burrow, and people were scattered everywhere. Mrs. Weasley was in the kitchen, preparing a sumptuous dinner that was sure to leave the family with bursting buttons. Mr. Weasley had disappeared to "feed the chickens," but everyone knew he was tinkering with his latest muggle discovery, the toaster. Ginny and Harry were missing, but this was not much of a surprise. Ron was off sulking in his room, unnecessarily polishing his broom. George was sitting on a rock on the edge of a small pond that was situated at the far corner of the garden, while Hermione looked on silently from the backdoor.

…..

George was staring into the water at his reflection. No one could ever tell them apart until the night his right ear had been cursed off. This put a damper on their style, so they had grown their hair longer to hide their ears, hoping it would suffice to mix them up again. He glanced down again at his reflection and really looked this time. Maybe it was time to cut his hair shorter; that was how he preferred it. There was no need to keep it long anymore; they couldn't trick people any longer now that "they" had turned to "he."

'Sure, mate, cut your hair. You'll still look like FredandGeorge anyways. That's the beauty and curse of being twins. Unfortunately for you, I was always the better looking twin, so you'll still be shafted.'

As the voice in his head spoke, he looked down morosely at his reflection and froze in shock, his heart pounding. He had seen the reflection smirk at him, but he had not smirked. 'No, that was ridiculous,' he told himself, 'it was only because I was thinking of Fred. Don't go taking the mickey, George.'

A hand suddenly rested softly on his shoulder and he started at the contact. The hand withdrew quickly as he turned his head to see who it had belonged to. He looked up into a pair of cinnamon eyes that were looking down at him, concern evident. 'Concern,' noted George, 'not pity.'

"George?" said Hermione softly, "Is everything alright. You've been staring into the pond an awfully long time now."

George let a twisted smile reach his lips. "Do you really expect me to answer that question?" he said with a hint of mockery in his voice.

"No," said Hermione, matter-of-factly, "I don't. It's somewhat rhetorical. I'm just trying to get you to talk, actually. Budge up." She bumped her hip into his arm, and he moved over so she could sit on the rock with him.

"You see him when you look in the water, don't you." It wasn't a question; it was as though she was getting confirmation on something she already knew as fact.

"Sometimes," he replied quietly. "Sometimes I… never mind."

"What is it?" she asked, her brow furrowing, "You can tell me. You know I won't laugh at you."

He sighed and looked at her, really looked at her. Her eyes were brown, but not a dull brown. They were almost amber, and you could always see her emotions in them. Her chestnut hair had tamed a bit, and although still ridiculously curly, it had lost some of its bushiness. 'It suits her better now,' he thought. Her eyebrows were cocked in a challenging manner and her mouth was turned up ever so slightly at the corner. It was as though she was challenging him by keeping eye contact, not even blushing at his scrutiny.

…

She desperately wanted him to open up. She didn't know why he was only really talking to her. Maybe it was just because of the Marriage Law thing. 'Maybe,' a small voice in her head said, 'he actually feels comfortable around you.' Hermione pushed this overly hopeful thought away. She cared about him, and she wanted him to know. It had never been a brother/sister kind of feeling for her, nor had it been anything romantic. Seeing him go through everything that had happened to him two years ago had been hard for everyone, but she had realized that he had pushed everyone away because he was only treated with pity. She knew that if something as traumatic as losing her twin and best friend had happened to her, she would want people to treat her normally and not like she was a ticking bomb.

He sighed and looked at her, almost examining her. She kept eye contact, and at the same time studied him. There was his overly long hair that was in desperate need of a cut, but she knew he kept it because of Fred. There were his freckles, which were so copious that he almost looked as though he was tanned. There were his blue eyes that were different from everyone else in his family, even Fred. All of the family had light blue eyes that bordered on blue-grey. Fred had had bright blue eyes that constantly sparkled with mirth, but George was different. George had stormy dark blue eyes that almost bordered on blue-green. There was a ring around the outside that was the deepest green, and could only be noticed if someone was looking for it. Hermione didn't know when she had first taken such studious observations of the twins, but somehow, for as long as she could remember, she had been able to tell them apart simply on the color of their eyes.

…

George, finally looking away, said, "Sometimes… sometimes…I hear him in my head. Like he's my conscience." He looked up, expecting to see fear or derision in her eyes. He was surprised to see her smiling.

"That makes perfect sense."

He looked at her wonderingly, then she spoke again.

"I hate where my life has taken me." She looked him in the eyes, almost angrily. "I am in a worthless job that I hate. No one treats me like anything but a machine. They lied to me. I wasn't hired because I'm the supposed 'brightest witch of our age.' I was hired because they knew how efficient I was. They told me I could help change the world, but I've tried and been laughed out the door."

George was terribly confused as to why she was telling him this, but he could not speak up or even break eye contact. The passion and fury in her voice was mesmerizing.

"I hate that I've never been in a real relationship because it would 'interfere with my studies.' I hate that I live in a dingy neighborhood that I don't feel safe in. Most of all, I hate that I've let myself get this unhappy. I hate that I haven't done anything to fix it," she finished, her cheeks flushed and her eyes filled with tears.

"Why did you tell me all that?" asked George hesitantly.

"Because you needed to know that people out there are hurting too. You need to realize that people care about you and you need to let them in."

George's mouth twisted into a half-smile, half-grimace. "That's easy to say, but –"

"It's hard to do. I understand. But you should realize that I am putting myself out there. I've opened up about things I barely talk to myself about. Now it's your turn, George." She looked at him defiantly, as if daring him to argue.

George looked down into the pond again. He looked at her reflection, which looked back.

"I miss him. I hate myself for not dying instead. I can't stand to be at the store or the apartment because they remind me of him, yet they are empty, so I stay. I hate that nobody talks to me anymore. If they do, it's as if they're afraid I'm about to spontaneously combust or something. I hate having to hide my thoughts and emotions, but I don't want to let anyone in. It's easier on my own. I hate that I don't remember how to be happy anymore." His voice broke and he took a deep, shuddering breath, desperately trying to fight the rush of emotions and tears that threatened to overwhelm him.

Suddenly, he felt arms around his shoulders. George drew in another shuddering breath, trying to hold back tears.

"It's not healthy to keep it all inside. It'll just make you fester and rot from the inside out," Hermione said quietly in his remaining ear.

It was too much for him. He broke down into sobs and Hermione held him.

…

Hermione didn't know how much time had passed, but eventually, George's racking sobs turned into shuddering deep breaths and silent tears. She knew she had opened up a festering wound, but she hoped, desperately hoped, she could help him heal. They could heal together.

"Hermione," a whispered voice said.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you," whispered George almost inaudibly.

"I'm here for you, George."

His arm wrapped around her shoulders and her arms remained wrapped around his waist until dinner was called some time later.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** Still not Rowling, but reviews and reads are appreciated. Shout-out to Brook for guiding me through the finer details of these chapters; you're the best!

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"DINNER!" shouted Mrs. Weasley from the backdoor. Suddenly, the house and yard were abuzz with life again as people started appearing out of their respective hiding spots and heading towards the kitchen. George lifted his arm from Hermione's shoulders, and smiled slightly as he felt her arms tighten around his chest in a quick final hug.

"Here," she said, turning to him and performing a quick spell to make all traces of his crying disappear.

"Thanks," George said quietly. She smiled softly at him and they walked back to the house.

Dinner was an almost silent affair. Everyone had something on their minds, and besides the occasional, "Pass the carrots?" "Thanks," there was very little talk. Hermione kept shooting quick, surreptitious looks at George, not noticing that Mrs. Weasley was shooting the same worried looks at both George and Hermione. When dinner was finished, the dishes cleaned and put away, people disappeared again. Just as Hermione was about to walk outside, she heard Mrs. Weasley call her name softly. She turned and saw Mrs. Weasley gesturing from the doorway of the living room, asking her to come in. She sat down next to an anxious-looking Mrs. Weasley, the child in her wondering if she was in trouble.

"Dear," Mrs. Weasley began, "I want to thank you."

"For what, Molly?" replied Hermione quizzically.

"You know, it's been hard on all of us since Fred…since Fred," she said, choking up at her lost son's name. "We know it has been especially hard on George, because he lost his twin and best friend. Those two were always thick as thieves. But it's been hard on all of us as well."

"Understandably, Molly. Especially for you and Arthur, losing a son. It would tear anybody apart," said Hermione, feeling compassion for this broken mother in front of her. Hermione could barely imagine the pain of losing her friends, but losing a son? It was unimaginably painful.

"We've all tried to get George back to the way he was, or even a shadow of his former self. I can't begin to tell you how much Arthur and I have done to help him. Charlie and Bill are constantly trying to get him flying again, and Percy even purposefully pranked himself, trying to get George to crack a smile. I wanted to thank you for getting through to him. I have no idea how you did it, but you did, and that's all that matters. I think you two make a good match. You're far enough out of the picture, yet close enough that you can connect to him without him feeling pressured by his family. I know you're strong enough to pull him out of this. I've tried my best, but I'm just not strong enough anymore. What George doesn't realize is that we are all missing Fred just as much. He doesn't realize that by cutting himself away from the family, it feels like we've lost both of them. And that just kills me inside, knowing this isn't a scrape I can heal up and kiss better. I want to be strong for my children, but it's hard when he won't let anyone in. I hate feeling like I've failed as a mother because I can't make him feel better. I just want him to be happy again." Mrs. Weasley broke down into tears and Hermione hugged her, wishing she could fix everything for the woman who was like another mother to her.

…

George stood in the shadows of the hall, thinking about all he had just overheard. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop. He had been coming back from the bathroom and he had heard his name, so he concealed himself and listened. He supposed old habits die hard. What he had heard had not been what he expected. He didn't know what he had expected, but hearing his mother talk about how much pain the family was in really shook him. Knowing his mother was hurting that much because of his self-imposed isolation made him guiltier than he had ever felt before. He had realized, he supposed, that Fred's death would affect the rest of his family, but it had never made much of a connection. The thought had floated idly in and out of the transom of his mind. Hearing his mother cry because she felt she was a failure hurt him to the core. He had never meant for her to feel anything remotely like that. He knew he had to fix what he had done to his family, but he just didn't know how.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: **I am not Rowling, but thanks for reading despite the fact.

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Harry and Ginny's wedding was beautiful. Hermione thought it was even more beautiful than Fleur's wedding, and much less eventful, for which everyone was thankful. Ginny looked radiant in a bright white dress that was so skillfully embroidered that you could only see the beautiful flower design if you were inches from it. Her flaming hair was swept up into a beautiful updo that eventually fell as the night went on and the dancing increased. Harry, for once, was able to comb his hair into something that almost looked neat, and, even with the problematic hair, looked incredibly handsome in his black dress robes. Mr. Weasley had positively beamed as he walked his daughter down the aisle and handed her off to the man he already thought of as his son. Mrs. Weasley cried all through the wedding, and completely lost it when the wizard from the Ministry of Magic had proclaimed them "man and wife." After that, a sumptuous dinner was enjoyed by all, after which much dancing occurred. Ginny had refused to let Mrs. Weasley cook on a day when she should be celebrating. The night was a blur, full of laughter, smiles, and celebrating, and too soon, Harry and Ginny were off for their two-week-long honeymoon.

…..

Hermione had decided that she and George needed to do several things before they married. Unlike Harry and Ginny, who had been in love for years, Hermione and George were still getting to know each other. Hermione had decided that they needed to go on dates and move in with each other so they would be able to get closer, since they were going to have to live together anyways. The first part of this plan was the more difficult to enact than the latter. Hermione was constantly trying to get George to go out and do things, but he always wanted to stay shut in by himself. Hermione finally got so fed up that she showed up outside George's apartment door one morning with all her things packed in boxes. She hammered on the door.

…

_BANG BANG BANG._

George's eyes flew open as he was startled awake and promptly fell out of bed, trying to get up too quickly. "Uhhhh," he groaned. Who in their right mind was calling at this hour?

"OI! NAFF OFF!" he yelled from the floor.

_BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG._

"All right, all right. I'm comin'. Don't get your knickers in a twist." He shuffled to the front door, yawning and rubbing his eyes. He opened the door with a flourish and without even looking who was there, he burst into speech.

"What in the bloody hell do you think you are doing waking people up at this godforsaken time? IT'S TOO BLEEDIN' EARLY IN THE – Hermione?" He looked at the wide-eyed girl before him, feeling terrible for having screamed in her face. "Oh, oh Merlin, I'm so sorry! Wha-what are you doing here?" He rumpled his hair, thoroughly oblivious to the internal struggle going on in his visitor's head.

…

'Uhhhhhh! This is ridiculous!' thought Hermione angrily, 'Is he incapable of answering the door?' She paused, listening the ruckus ensuing within. 'What did he just say? How rude!' She pounded on the door some more, not allowing language like that to be directed at her. The mahogany door opened with a flourish and she was face to face with a screaming, half-awake George. Just as he was realizing it was her at his door, she was realizing something else. 'Oh. Oh my. He's not wearing much clothes,' she thought, observing George in only some knickers with snitches, quaffles, and bludgers on them. 'My, I didn't know Quidditch did that to your body,' noting his well-toned body. The prefect voice in her head shouted, 'Hermione Jean Granger! Stop gawking! This is terribly inappropriate!' Her eyes immediately snapped back to his face, her cheeks heating as her face turned scarlet.

…

George looked at Hermione, not understanding why she had suddenly turned bright red and was looking guilty. He felt a breeze, and suddenly, the lightbulb went off.

"Oh, err, I uhh, well...ummm…" George had no idea what to say. This was incredibly awkward.

Hermione was looking at the ceiling as she said in a voice of determined calm, "I decided it was time I moved in. I figured since you weren't taking action, I would."

This snapped George out of his confusion. "Wait…WHAT?"

Hermione pushed past him with a box in her hands. He stared at her as she set it down and, with her hand on her hip, asked, "Well? Aren't you going to help me?"

The next several days were spent moving Hermione into his flat. He offered his room to her, not wanting anyone but himself to be in Fred's room, which he hadn't gone into for two years. They removed all of his belongings and moved her into his room, along with some of her furniture, like her bed and dresser, which she had shrunk to increase portability. Soon, George's room was unrecognizable. Not only had it gone from dark blue to a sunny yellow, but it had been enlarged to fit a queen sized bed, dresser, and desk with a lot of room to spare. She had also created a large window with shutters, giving the room much-needed light, and leaving George cursing himself for never thinking of that. For now, George was sleeping in Fred's room, but had not moved any of his stuff into it. He left it in Hermione's old boxes. As George lay on the bed, he heard a voice speak up.

"Mate, you're going to go a bit mad sitting silently in a dark room for a long time."

"I am not going mad."

"Well, first of all, you're talking to a voice in your head. Secondly, you're in my old room moping. I'd say you're well on your way."

"I'm just trying to fool myself into thinking you're going to walk back into the room any minute."

"Okay, definitely crazy now. Clean up the room at least. All you did is get the dust away, you lazy sod."

"I'm not lazy. I just…can't right now."

"Get a move-on, man; this is getting ridiculous."

"What is? Get a move-on on what?"

"EVERYTHING! "

"What do you mean, everything?"

"You're a big boy. You'll figure it out," the voice chuckled.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: ** Not Rowling, but really appreciating the reviews!

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It had been a week and a half, and living with George had been working out well for Hermione. They were getting more comfortable with one another, and George had even started talking on a regular basis. Although he was not back to his regular, jokester self, he was a lot more talkative and animated than he had been previously. He did have a tendency to fall into bouts of silent brooding, but Hermione learned to accept that it was simply part of the "new George." They had unconsciously developed a pattern for their everyday routines. Hermione would wake up before George and use the shared bathroom to get ready. He quickly discovered that Hermione did not like to get dressed in the bathroom, and preferred to walk back to her room in a towel. He had learned this on the first day of her living with him when he had shuffled towards the bathroom, yawning and rubbing his eyes, and had collided with a wet-haired and scantily-clad Hermione. After much blushing and apologizing, the situation was pushed aside, and George learned to listen for Hermione's quiet footsteps passing before he left his room. Hermione would make them breakfast, and they would sit quietly, eating together. After that, George would disappear to his office to "invent," but she knew he wasn't getting much done. She would go to her tedious job and when she came home around 6, she would knock on his office door, and they would make dinner together. They would talk about her awful job, how Diagon Alley had changed, and other such "safe" topics. Then they would retire to the living room, where Hermione would typically read a new book she had found, and George would read or stare absently into the middle distance.

Although they were generally not talking about any soul-searching topics, they had each learned much about each other. George had learned that Hermione was one for habit, just like him. She woke at the same time every day, always did her hair one of three ways (He liked her hair plaited, with her fringe just barely getting in her eyes, but he had never told her. She generally pulled her hair into a messy bun or left it down and let the curls run wild.), always made breakfast at the same time, and almost always managed to knock on his office door when he was just slipping away into dark thoughts. Hermione had noticed much about George that she had never known when they were at Hogwarts. George was smart, no, _really_ smart. She had always known the twins were clever; how else would they have come up with such crazy inventions and pranks? But she had never understood how simply brilliant he was. He didn't flash it around, and he wasn't really book-smart, like she was. He had invented spells on his own, and, although it was usually done non-verbally, she was amazed at what he was able to do. She also saw that he was not one to grieve openly unless pressured, such as their conversation next to the pond. She watched him when he wasn't looking, and she would see the lines on his forehead deepen as he concentrated when helping make dinner, or when he was reading. But she also noticed a shadow cross his face when he was staring into space. She knew he was diving back down into pools of painful memories, and she always tried to bring him back to the surface when she saw the walls were going back up.

…

They were getting on well when, one day, Hermione said, "George, I think it might be time to try and move some of your stuff into the room."

He looked up at her with eyes filled with pain and said, "Hermione, you know I just –"

"I know George – you're not comfortable with it. But at least we should get the room clean, like really clean. It's been two years since that room was used. It's filthy."

"I removed the dust."

"I know, but that's only the tip of the iceberg."

George sighed. Maybe she had a bit of a point. The room did have a dank, musty feeling to it that wasn't very comfortable. She pulled him from his thoughts, a kind look in her eyes.

"Would you like me to help? I understand if you want to do it alone."

He looked at her, and thought for a minute. "No, I'll do it myself. Thanks though."

"I'm here for you, George," she replied as she smiled at him.

…

It was a Thursday afternoon, Hermione was at work, and George decided that he should try cleaning up the room. He moved Fred's books to the large bookshelf in the living room and removed all the clothes to be cleaned. He removed the bedclothes to be washed as well, and was shrinking down the empty furniture in order to clean the floor, when he saw a crumpled piece of parchment under where the bed had been. He picked it up, thinking it was trash, and smoothed it out. He examined the complex scribbles and diagrams, realizing it was plans for a new and complex product Fred had obviously been in the middle of inventing. At the bottom of the page, George read:

_Cannot figure out how to combine Rictusempra and Mobiliarbus. Is tickling while victim is in mid-air a good idea? Idea of function of fake wands? Maybe make spells backfire on user, as well as the effects of Rictusempra? Possible problems regarding laughter leading to floating off course and getting injured. Need to ask George is this idea is bollocks or genius. Probably genius, because I did create it._

George felt numb. His brother had been inventing spells and had not been able to complete one. He had needed to ask George, and he had died not having finished a spell he was proud about. To George, who understood how important designing was to the two of him, this seemed like the ultimate cruelty. His eyes passed over the last two lines. His brother always managed to be cocky, even in memos to himself. _Need to ask George…_ George stared at those four words, guilt rising in him. He was the reason this prank had never happened. It felt like seeing his brother get hit by the wall again. It was his fault he wasn't the one to get hit. It was his fault he was the one that had remained alive. It was his fault.

…

Hermione came home from grocery shopping, arms laden with bags.

"GEORGE, I'M BACK!" she yelled from the kitchen. The house was silent. She walked down to his office and pushed the door open, revealing and empty chair and paper-laden desk.

"Oooookay," she said aloud to herself, "maybe in the apartment." She trudged back up the stairs and into the apartment. She searched, but the only door that was closed was the door to Fred's room.

"George? You in there?" she said to the door. Silence. "GEORGE?"

"Go away," a sullen voice replied.

"Uh, okay." Figuring he was feeling ill, she went to put the groceries away and prepare dinner on her own. She went back to the door an hour later.

"George, dinner is ready."

"I'm not hungry," replied the voice from the darkened room.

"That's ridiculous," Hermione said incredulously. "Weasleys are always hungry!"

"Please leave me alone right now."

Hermione sighed. "Fine. I'll leave the leftovers in the fridge for you." She left and ate alone. After cleaning up, she placed a charm on the fridge so she would know when George had come out to eat. Two days passed and the alarm never went off. She never heard him come out of the room. She suspected he left in the dead of night to use the loo, but she never heard him.

…

Finally, as the third day came and still no George had shown, Hermione had had enough. She stormed over to the door and banged on it.

"George, let me in. This is ridiculous."

No reply. She pounded harder. Still no reply.

"Alohamora," she said confidently. No click of a lock was heard. She subsequently tried every unlocking charm she knew, and still her entry was barred from the room.

"GEORGE FABIAN WEASLEY, YOU OPEN THIS DOOR THIS INSTANT!" She was met with silence.

"GEORGE! LET! ME! IN!" Still no reply.

Furious, Hermione channeled her anger and shouted, her voice full of rage, "EXPULSO!"

With a huge blast like a cannon, the door was blasted off its hinges and flew in pieces, into the room. She stormed into the dark room and glared at the slumped figure in the corner.

"WHAT PRECICELY IS YOUR PROBLEM?"

"Go away," George replied quietly.

"This is stupid! You won't eat, you won't come out, you won't even turn on a bloody light. This has got to stop, George."

"Go away," George repeated.

"NO! I will NOT go away!" shouted Hermione, fed up with his moping. "You think you're the only one hurting! You think you're the only one affected by the war and by death. You are so wrapped up in George-world and you don't notice that I'm trying to help you! We are all trying to help you! But NO, you are SO self-involved –"

George suddenly jumped up and stood a foot from her, his face filled with the rage she had seen the night they had gotten the letters. "You don't know how this affected me! You don't understand what it's like to lose a twin! Half of me is gone! You didn't know Fred; you were too busy being prim and perfect and trying to get us in trouble that you never took the time to get to know him, or me, for that matter. Don't you DARE blast your way into here thinking you know everything, like always. You didn't know Fred, so how could you understand?"

"You're right!" Hermione yelled back, now inches from his face. "I didn't! But you did! You knew him better than anyone else in the world." Her voice dropped to a whisper, "Do you really think this is what Fred wanted for you?"

"GET OUT!" George roared.

"No," Hermione said sternly. George glared at her ferociously and with a _crack!_, he was gone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: ** No matter how hard I try, I shall never be J.K. Rowling. There are a few lines that I lifted from Rowling, which will be cited in the form of having an asterisk at the beginning and end of the conversation. (I substituted Hermione for Ginny in the lines).

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Hermione stared at the place where George had just been. She felt the anger drain out of her as it was quickly replaced by sadness and hurt. She sank to the floor, thinking about all he had said, all he had yelled at her, and she began to sob, not knowing why it hurt so much, not knowing why she cared so much, simply knowing that his words had wounded her.

…

A _crack!_ rang out, and a figure moved in the falling darkness. George walked slowly between the headstones until he reached one topped with a bust of a familiar face. He looked sadly at his brother's face, forever immortalized in granite, and looked down at the writing on the headstone.

_Fred Gideon Weasley_

_April1, 1978 – May 2, 1998_

_Give not over thy soul to sorrow; and afflict not thyself in thy own counsel. Gladness of heart is the life of man and the joyfulness of man is length of days._

He sat down in front of the grave and said aloud, "Gred, I miss you. Why did you have to leave? Why could I have been the one to die instead?"

A voice in his head rang out, 'I miss you too, Forge. And don't you go moping about and being suicidal. I was killed by a bloody wall for God's sake! I didn't even have time to fight that bastard Rookwood. At least you're still here."

"Yea, and that's a consolation."

'Yea, it is, mate. You get a second chance. And you're wasting it completely.'

"I am not wasting –"

'Yes you are! You fought same as me, and yet you can't carry on Weasley Twin pride and tradition. You sicken me.'

"I most certainly can –"

'Then bloody well get a move on! You've got a successful joke shop, a family that loves you, and a pretty girl to marry. I don't see why you're being such a bloody sad sack!'

"I just – you think Hermione is pretty?"

'No, mate, I don't. You do. This is ridiculous – I'm dead and I'm still your matchmaker. So stop waffling about and do something!'

"Do what?"

'Bloody hell, do I have to spell it out? Get back to work, try actually talking to the family, and stop being such a wanker to Granger! It's not that bleedin' difficult!'

"That's easy for you to say. You're dead."

'Yes, I am. But you're not. So stop acting like it.'

…

George stared at his brother's face, and thought about the conversation he, well…_they_, had had. He was right, Hermione was right, they were all right. He had just been hurting himself more by shutting himself away. He couldn't invent anymore because that _joie de vivre_ he had once had had vanished. He needed to get back to how he used to be. Fred would have wanted him to carry on their joyful spirit and share it with others. First things first, he had to figure out how. Maybe Hermione could help him. 'Hermione,' thought George guiltily. "I was so terrible to her. I need to fix this, all of this. I guess that's where I start.' And with a _crack!_, he was gone.

…

He had apperated slightly off course, and landed in the middle of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. He looked around the dark store and felt a tinge of sadness.

"Lumos," he muttered as he began to walk around the shop. There were the Skiving Snackboxes that they had completed in their seventh year, just in time to drive Umbridge out of her mind. He remembered how he and Fred had worked so hard on them, especially on deciding which symptoms were best.

"_Okay, so we've got nose bleeds and vomiting," said George, staring at their copious notes. "What else?"_

"_What about vertigo?" asked Lee Jordan, thinking aloud as he bounced a ball on the wall and caught it repeatedly._

"_Nah, people will just think you're confunded," replied Fred, leaning his chair back on two legs with his hands behind his head. "We need things that really make you seem ill. Things that mums worry about."_

"_Like a cold?" asked Lee._

"_Like a fever!" said George._

"_Brill," said Fred excitedly. "What about fainting?"_

"_If you're unconscious, how can you take the other part?" asked a confused Lee._

"_Details, my good man, simply details," said Fred pompously as his chair slammed down to earth. "Let's get started."_

He passed the Extendable Ears, and smiled as he remembered the day they started working on those. Fred had gotten the idea from unsuccessfully trying to overhear Order members' conversations.

"_Extendable Ears! Wicked, right?" said Fred excitedly._

"_In theory, but what would they be?" asked George._

"_Isn't it obvious? Like long ear-like things that you put near other people's conversations and you can overhear it stealthily."_

_So they had worked and worked on them. They had even made it so the ears could creep towards the intended conversation, increasing the stealth factor. Their only problem is that they could not figure out how to fix the charm so the range of hearing extended from one end of the long fleshy string to the other while being loud enough. Plus, the ears had started to make a contented humming noise after the first few seconds. The twins had no idea what to do, when Hermione walked in on them planning._

"_Hey guys. What are you doing?"_

"_Trying to figure out how to fix a new product," said George absent-mindedly, thinking it was Ginny and not Hermione who had walked in._

"_You wanna help, Gin?" said Fred, also not paying much attention._

"_Depends. What am I helping with?" said Hermione, not bothering to correct them._

"_Extendable Ears. Magical eavesdropping. They aren't loud enough and won't stop humming."_

"_Well, that's easy enough. I'll help," said Hermione, bending down to take a closer look at the strings._

"_Thanks a bun- HERMIONE!" shouted a startled George, who had turned his head to the side and seen a long brown plait rather than the expected curtain of red hair._

"_Yes?" said Hermione, a smile playing across her face._

"_Why do you, of all people, want to help us with a prank?" asked a suspicious Fred._

"_Because I want to know what's going on just as badly as you too."_

George smiled as he looked at the boxes, remembering how Hermione had helped them, and how they had become a staple that summer as Order members rushed in and out of the house, relaying news in whispers. He kept walking around and saw the infamous love potions, the bottles decorated in a shade of violent pink. He remembered Hermione and his sister scoffing at the potions.

_*Hermione raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Do they work?" she asked._

"_Certainly they work!" said Fred. "For up to 24 hours at a time, depending on the weight of the boy in question."_

"_And the attractiveness of the girl," said George, reappearing suddenly at their side.*_

_Hermione looked at the crowd of giggling girls surrounding the Wonder Witch products table. _

"_I really think those could go wrong," she said. "They could turn out to be quite dangerous." And with a meaningful look at the twins, she left to look at another product._

_What she had said had bothered George all afternoon. That night, as he was staring blankly at the magazine in his hands, Fred shouted, "OI! George!"_

_George snapped out of his reverie. "What?" he asked confusedly._

"_I've been calling your name for the past five minutes. What's wrong?"_

"_Nothing's wrong."_

"_Yea, mate, of course. Nothing's wrong, you've just been staring at an ad for a dress shop. Looking for your newest drag outfit?" Fred said with an evil glint in his eyes._

"_Naff off."_

"_Seriously, what's bothering you?"_

"_I can't understand why Hermione said those love potions could be dangerous. How can it be dangerous?"_

"_Let it go, mate. Why do you care so much about what Miss Prefect thinks?"_

"_Honestly, I don't know. It's just been bothering me all day."_

"_Awww, does Georgie have a crush on Little Miss Rules?" Fred said with an evil grin spreading across his face._

"_No I do not!" said George, a bit too quickly._

"_Then why are you blushing?" asked a smirking Fred._

"_You git! You know I always blush if someone says I'm blushing!"_

"_Or is it because you're in luuuuurrrrvvveeeee?" sang Fred, sounding annoyingly like Peeves._

"_Sod off!"_

"_Whatever you say!" said Fred, sauntering off humming something that sounded suspiciously like the childhood song "k-i-s-s-i-n-g."_

He chuckled as he remembered hearing about its strengthened effects on his prat brother. 'I guess Hermione was right after all,' he thought with a smile. He walked out of the store the back way and walked quietly up the stairs to the apartment. He opened the door silently and heard sniffling. He looked over to the living room and saw the profile of Hermione, pale and puffy-eyed, her hair everywhere. She had been crying, for hours it looked like, and it was all his fault. He felt terrible at knowing he had made her feel this way. He walked over and sat down on the couch next to her. Her head snapped up, not having known he was back. She stared at him, hurt and curiosity battling for dominance in her very red eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I'm really sorry, Hermione. You were right. About everything." He wrapped his arms around her, and he pulled her close, feeling her occasional shudder as she tried to restrain tears. He ran his fingers through her hair, trying both to soothe her and himself. They stayed like that until they drifted off to sleep, still in each others' arms.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: **I've had this done for a week now, but the site was being stupid and not letting me upload it. Je suis very very pissed. Sorry for the wait! Majorly long chapter ahead. Thanks so much for all the reads and reviews! It's very much appreciated! (Still not Rowling)

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**A HUGE THANKS TO PAMELA3625 FOR HELPING ME FIND OUT HOW TO GET AROUND THE ERROR AND BE ABLE TO POST! I SEND YOU TONS AND TONS OF HUGS AND THANKS.**

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_TAP. TAP. TAP._

George shifted in his sleep, his arms tightening unconsciously around the warm body in his arms. He felt arms tighten around his waist and a head snuggle closer against his chest. He smiled and turned his head to the side, falling back to sleep.

_TAP. TAP. TAP._

Hermione vaguely realized there was a tapping noise, but she figured it was part of her dream. She felt her cheek resting on something warm and solid, covered in a soft material. She smiled as she cuddled closer, enjoying the warmth.

_TAP. TAP. TAP._

George opened his eyes and immediately regretted it as sun assaulted them. He squinted around and saw he was still in the living room, on the couch, as a matter of fact. Hmm... that explained the crick in his neck. He noticed a weight on his chest. He looked down and saw a mess of curly hair fanned across his chest. Suddenly, he realized where his arms were, just as he realized how nice they felt around her.

_TAP. TAP. TAP._

Hermione shifted in his arms, and he felt her smile against his chest. He smiled softly as he watched her slowly stirring. She woke up and looked at him, the fog of slumber still covering her eyes as she smiled sleepily up at him. She shifted, but realized her legs were entangled with George's across the rest of the couch. She blushed, but suddenly her attention was drawn away from her proximity to George.

_TAP. TAP. TAP._

Their eyes both found the owl tapping at the living room window. As they both tried to get up, they smacked heads and fell back in pain.

"MERLIN'S SAGGY LEFT -"

"GEORGE!"

She tottered over to the window, clutching her smarting forehead as she let in the owl in. It flew in and landed on George's aching head, which was being cradled in his hands.

"DOGGAMFUTHERMUCKINBUNOFASITCH!" screamed George, jumping up.

"What? What?" shouted Hermione anxiously.

"THE BLOODY BIRD PECKED MY HEAD!" shouted George, clutching a spot on the top of his head. The bird flew to the arm of the couch, watching with an annoyed air as George blundered around the room.

"George, I'm sure it's not too bad. Let me see," said Hermione, leading George back to the couch and peeling his hands from the top of his head. His hands were covered in blood. Apparently, the bird had not been happy about being made to wait so long. Hermione quickly and non-verbally applied a cleaning spell to George's hands, not wanting him to get dramatic over the blood.

"How is it?" asked George.

Hermione tried to keep her voice steady; she hated the sight of blood. "Umm, it's fine. Stay still. I'll fix it right up." She muttered a healing spell, and in no time at all, George's owl-inflicted wound was no more. The owl snapped its beak, obviously impatient. Hermione turned and removed the letter from it leg, but it did not leave, signaling that she had to reply immediately. She unfurled the parchment and read aloud,

_Hermione and George,_

_Harry and I are back from our honeymoon and we are moving into Grimmauld Place now that it is remodeled, but we need movers. Can you come over around ten? Once everything is settled, I'll make lunch (or dinner depending on when we finish). Thanks and hugs!_

_Gin_

_PS: Mione, when did you move in with George? Why didn't you tell me? Wink wink. Xoxo_

She looked up at George, trying to resist blushing from accidentally reading Ginny's postscript out loud.

"What, does she think we're here just shagging like rabbits?" said George, chuckling. Hermione immediately had a mental picture and blushed horribly, trying desperately to banish the inappropriate image from her mind. "Got you thinking about me naked now, don't I, Granger?" he said with a grin, the old flirty George back for a moment.

Hermione couldn't help it – hearing him act like his old self made her so happy that she couldn't resist playing back. "Oh, you only say that because you've been thinking about me like that," she said with a smirk worthy of Malfoy as she sauntered away, swinging her hips purposefully. She turned at the doorway to the hall to see George still standing in the same place, his mouth hanging slightly open.

"When did you learn to flirt, Granger?" he asked, incredulous.

"Oh, there's a lot you don't know about me, Weasley," said Hermione with an evil grin. He stared at her as she said in a sultry voice, "I'm going to go take a shower now." She sashayed out of the room, desperately trying to control her laughter at how she had been able to shock the ultimate prankster.

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By ten minutes to ten, Hermione and George showed up to Grimmauld Place, ready to move. George was wearing some old and very worn khaki trousers and an old quidditch t-shirt, the Irish National Team logo faded and worn from age. Hermione had her hair pulled into a messy French braid and was wearing some old jeans and a t-shirt, both a bit small and covered with paint from when she had, stupidly, decided to paint the interior of her house on her own the muggle way. Both thought the other looked quite good, but of course mentioned nothing of the sort. As they rang the doorbell, a shout of "COMING! I'M COMINGGGG!" was heard. A harried but excited Ginny answered the door and crushed each in a huge hug. Fifteen minutes later, Ron showed up with Luna. Ginny, Hermione and Harry were thrilled to see Luna, but Ron did not seem overly thrilled by his companion. As Harry gave everyone a tour of the remodeled house, which included an elf-head-free walkway, a permanently-closed curtain that concealed the portrait of Mrs. Black, spacious and brightly-colored rooms, and light pouring in from newly-created windows.

"This is quite nice, Harry," said Luna in her sing-song voice. "It's got a very nice aura. It must be because of the weeglesnarfs. They're known to inhabit old homes."

Hermione and Ginny looked at each other, trying hard not to giggle. They loved Luna, but her imaginary creatures were always good for a laugh. Harry, who was used to this, asked, "Luna, what is a weeglesnarf, exactly?"

"They're invisible flying creatures that have fur that shifts from yellow to orange to green depending on the kind of people in the house. They have seven toes on each paw and have the face of a kitten but the body of an otter. Green is for nice people, orange is for mean people, and yellow is when they are living in an empty house. It's definitely a green one. Probably leaf green."

Ron snorted derisively and rolled his eyes. Luna smiled, but there was an edge to her dreamy voice as she said, not looking at Ron, "Ron doesn't believe me because he's too busy being self-involved and mean-spirited." A silence followed this pronouncement as Luna hummed contentedly, surveying the room, Ron turned red and sputtered, and everyone else was coughing, trying to hide their laughs.

"Luna," said George unexpectedly, mirth in his voice. Everyone's heads whipped around in his direction, incredulous, except for Luna and Hermione, who both calmly looked over at him. "You're good people," said George, ignoring the reactions and smiling at Luna. "Thank you, George," replied Luna, a mischievous glint in her otherwise glassy and protuberant eyes. Trying to break the tension from the shock of George speaking and smiling, Hermione said loudly, "Gin, where are the boxes of stuff we have to move?" Everyone seemed to come to, and the moving began. Hermione took over setting up and organizing the kitchen, while Harry, Ron, and George stared working with moving furniture into all the rooms. Ginny, Hermione and Luna started setting up the rooms with all the clothes and other personal belongings. As the day went on, the house came together quite nicely. By the time darkness was falling, Ginny and Luna were working on dinner, while the boys were snoring on the couches in the living room.

Hermione had been about to help the girls when she had noticed a lone box that had been missed. She picked it up, realizing it was some of Harry's belongings. She walked up to his office, which was formerly Sirius' room and still held all of his old posters and pictures. As she removed the last of his belongings and put them in their proper places, she noticed something poking out from a broken frame holding the picture of the Marauders during their time at Hogwarts. She pulled gently at it, and another picture came loose. On the back was written in James' untidy scrawl,

_Lily with Harry; First steps on first birthday._

Hermione turned over the picture and saw a black haired baby with bright green eyes laughing as he held Lily's forefingers and took wobbly steps. Lily, her long red hair pulled away from her face, wore a smile that lit up her entire face. Pride shone in her emerald eyes as she glowed with happiness.

Hermione's hand shook as she examined the picture, her breath hitching as she tried to restrain the sobs that were fighting to get out.

_Hermione was searching desperately all over Australia for Wendell and Monica Wilkins. She had been searching for months and she had even used magic, but she had made sure it was impossibly difficult to track them. This had been helpful in trying to protect them, but now she couldn't even find her own parents. She was terrified that they had died, but she refused to give up. Finally, after four months, she found them in Wollombi Valley. She had tried to remove the memory charm, but she had made it so strong that when she tried to remove it, it only worked to a degree. They remembered her, but only up to the age of eleven. They couldn't remember anything past then, and assumed something had happened to her. They were not sure if she had been adopted or was a foster child or if she had died. No matter what Hermione did to try and fix the charm or even convince her parents that she was that little girl, nothing worked. It was as if her life had been ripped from all but her memory. She no longer had parents that knew who she was, and all her memories of her childhood were simply that – memories that now only she held the truth to._

Hermione quietly put a silencing charm on the room, and let herself cry. No one knew about what had happened. She had been too upset and frustrated with her failure that she had not mentioned it to anyone. Thankfully, no one had asked about her parents, but it was a painful load to bear alone. She sobbed as painful memories filled her mind.

Suddenly, the door to Sirius' room opened and George walked in, saying, "Hermione, I was wondering where you – Hermione, what's wrong?" He shut the door and hurried over to her. She simply continued to cry. He sat down next to her and put his arm around her.

"Hermione, tell me what's wrong." She shook her head, gasping for breath.

"Hermione," George said sternly. "What's wrong?" She stared at him, eyes puffy and red, and slowly hiccupped herself into silence. "Hermione?"

With many sobs and hiccups punctuating her speech, she told George about the picture and what had happened with her parents. During this time, he had picked up Hermione and pulled her into his lap, his arms tightly around her as he rubbed her back in circles. When she had finished the story, she resumed her sobbing, promptly soaking the front and shoulder of his shirt. He held her to him, rubbing the nape of her neck and her back. He didn't know what to say. He didn't think there was anything he could say. This wasn't the kind of situation to which you simply said, "Bummer. Sorry about that, mate" or "It'll get better" or "I understand." This was scarring; this was painful and personal; this was the kind of pain he truly understood. He knew that in his pain, he would have wanted someone to be there for him. Not to say stupid, falsely cheerful things that were supposed to raise his spirits. He would have wanted someone there to say, "That is awful, and you're not going to get over this anytime soon, but I'll be here no matter what." He had been too closed off for anyone to try and be that person, and he now regretted it, seeing how his pain had hurt the ones he loved. He was going to be that person for Hermione. She had been fighting this on her own for too long. He now saw that despite her tough outside, she was terribly fragile and broken inside, just like him. Marriage law or not, he vowed to always be her rock and always be there for her. She needed someone who understood, and honestly, so did he. He was going to help her heal, just as she was helping him.

Eventually, her sobs lessened and were replaced by deep shuddering breaths and hiccups. He held her close, wishing he could simply suck the pain out of her, like a human sponge. After a while, Hermione looked up at George, her bloodshot eyes almost swollen closed, and said shakily, "Thanks you, George."

He smiled at her softly and said in a whisper, "I'll always be there for you, Hermione. We'll get through all this together." He hugged her close, then said quietly, "They're probably going to come looking for us. Dinner should be ready soon."

"Oh," said Hermione, looking around, having forgotten that she had been helping Harry and Ginny due to her grief. George lifted her gently, and set her on the ground, got up, then grandly bowed, offering his hand.

"M'lady?" Hermione gave a watery chuckle and grasped his hand. He hoisted her to her feet and she bumped into his chest from the velocity. He gave her another quick hug, then used a spell to remove the effects of crying from her face, as well as dry his shirt. They walked down to the kitchen together, where the boys had just woken up and the girls had just finished cooking. No one had noticed their absence.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: **So hates me apparently, and refused to let me publish ANYTHING for a week now. Planning on killing people in the support department and making it last as long as the amount of time I had to wait. Not that I'm upset or anything…. Thanks so much again for all the reads and reviews! It's very much appreciated! (Still not Rowling)

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**THANKS AGAIN TO PAMELA3625!**

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A week had passed since they had helped Ginny and Harry move, but now it was time for two more marriages. George and Hermione had, after many shouting matches, convinced Mrs. Weasley to hold off on the beautiful wedding she was planning. A part of Hermione felt terrible for taking this away from Mrs. Weasley, as she was using the wedding planning as a way to keep herself distracted from how upset she was. Hermione and George had agreed that they would do a simple court wedding at the Ministry of Magic, where they said the necessary things and were proclaimed legally married by a member of the court. When Mrs. Weasley had started on her tirade, Hermione had cut her off by explaining that they would have a real wedding when it felt appropriate. "Love doesn't abide by a timetable," reasoned Hermione. "Everyone dreams of getting married to the person they love and it being a big celebration, and we want it to live up to that. You can't force the feelings that make a true wedding so magical." Finally, Mrs. Weasley gave in and allowed them to go to the Ministry. After much pleading and whining on Ron's part, and much sing-song non sequiturs from Luna, Mrs. Weasley let them do the same.

George and Hermione were just leaving to take the floo to the Ministry, both wearing muggle attire as they didn't want to bother with cloaks for such a short trip. George was wearing a simple sky blue button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and some khaki trousers. Hermione thought the shirt looked incredibly soft and brought out the depth of his blue eyes. She wondered how she would be able to "borrow" it without him noticing. Hermione was wearing a simple striped dress and had her hair in a loose plait. George thought she looked lovely, and was trying desperately to keep himself from staring at where the dress was pulled a bit tighter. He went through the floo first, trying to keep his eyes off of her. This proved impossible as she came through the floo and her dress flew up in a Marilyn Monroe-esque way. Both were blushing terribly; Hermione was terribly embarrassed at the idea that she had potentially flashed everyone at the Ministry, while George was failing miserably at removing the mental picture of her legs as the dress flew up. They headed up to the Magical Law Enforcement floor, and soon found a short line of people doing the same thing as them. When it was their turn, they went in, did their vows, said their "I do's," and were sent on their way as George and Hermione Granger Weasley. Hermione had wanted to keep her surname for the present time. She explained that she wanted to change her last name when the real wedding came. As they were walking towards the giant fireplaces, they saw Ron and Luna coming into the atrium, on their way to their Ministry wedding, both looking rather bored.

George and Hermione headed home to relax and lay about, relishing the fact that it was a Saturday. As Hermione lay on the couch, she thought about her conversation with Harry a few days earlier.

"_Knock knock!" Hermione looked up from her work and saw Harry at her cubicle._

"_Hello! To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Potter?" Hermione said in a formal tone. Harry's smile slipped a tad as he came into the cubicle and drew up a chair._

"_I wanted to talk to you about George," he said, looking a bit worried._

"_Everything's going pretty well," said Hermione, a bit too quickly._

"_I believe you. What I'm worried about is you getting hurt. George comes with a lot of baggage. I know you're a strong woman and will be able to help him. I'm just worried that it might work the other way and you'll end up the one in a depression, like George now."_

_Hermione looked at Harry seriously as she said, "He comes with baggage, but so do I. I think everything will be fine because we understand what the other is going through._

_Harry smiled at Hermione. "I just want to make sure you're going to be ok. I think it's really wicked how you've been able to get George to open up again."_

"Thanks Harry. I appreciate you looking out for me," she said as she got up to hug him.

"I always will, Mione," said Harry as he hugged her back. "You're not getting rid of me that easily." They laughed and after some talk on their jobs and his and Ginny's honeymoon, Harry left.  
  
Hermione came out of her daze and realized George was asleep in the armchair across from her. Suddenly, a strange urge gripped her, seeing him looking so vulnerable. She snuck down to the shop, which was being run these days by Lee and Verity, and searched the shelves. Once she had found something suitable, she paid for it quickly and tiptoed up the stairs, back into the apartment. As she walked over to her slumbering husband ('Whoa, that sounds weird,' she thought.), she thanked the powers that be that George slept with his mouth slightly open. She unwrapped the purple candy as quietly as possible, and slipped it carefully into his mouth. She tiptoed back to the couch and picked up a book, not knowing if he would wake up from the effects and wanting to look as innocent as possible.

She pressed a pillow to her mouth, trying to muffle the uncontrollable giggles that were bursting forth. She watched him, waiting for him to wake up. He shifted the placement of his head and fell back to sleep. His head drooped and fell from lack of support. He jerked awake and Hermione barely had time to resume her fake reading. He groaned and she glanced up, nonchalantly.

"Morning sunshine," she said, a touch of sarcasm tinting her tone. He nodded his head at her. He got up and, rubbing his eyes, walked towards the bathroom. She held her hand to her mouth, waiting for his reaction. She was not disappointed.

A high pitched scream rent the air. She forced her face into a look of concern. "George, you okay?" her voice dripping with worry and kindness.

George ran into the living room. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO ME?"

"What do you mean?" she said, fighting to keep her face as straight as possible.

"What do I mean? What do I mean? I'M A GIRL! I'VE GOT HEADLAMPS! WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL DID YOU DO?"

She stood back and surveyed him. He did make an attractive girl. His hair had grown to shoulder length and fell in loose ringlets. The lines of his face had softened, changing from angular and handsome, to soft and pretty, with high cheekbones. His shoulders and chest had lost some of its breadth, and had grown to about a C cup, the buttons of his shirt now pulling slightly. With the addition of curvy hips and slender legs, his pants fit incorrectly now, tight around his butt and hanging loosely at the legs. She smirked up at him.

"Georgina, you look lovely. Is that mascara you're wearing?"

He growled in anger and ran at her. She screamed and began running. Anyone walking in would have thought that this couple was reliving childhood. He had been running in anger and she in fear, but after a few laps around the living room, the anger and fear melted into laughter and pure unadulterated joy. Hermione giggled as she ran from George, laughing and chasing after her, darting around the furniture, as he slowly changed back to his usual male self. With a mighty leap, George vaulted over the couch, tackling Hermione to the ground, careful to fall under her so she wouldn't get the brunt of the impact. They hit the floor with a resounding _THUMP_ and lay there, shaking with silent laughter as they fought to regain the air that had been knocked out of them. They finally calmed down and fell into silence, which was broken as soon as George looked at the girl in his arms. They lost it again and lay there for a good fifteen minutes, simply laughing.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: **Story finally back up! Thanks again to Pamela3625 for helping me and to all of you for having patience! (Not Rowling.)

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The incident with the Gender Bender Drop led to a full-fledged prank war taking place daily in the Granger/Weasley household. The day after George was turned into a girl, Hermione woke to find her hair had turned into a bright orange and purple afro, which was accompanied by much screaming on Hermione's part. Two days after, everything George ate for a day turned into bugs right before it got to his mouth. The next day, Hermione could only speak in Pig Latin with a Russian accent. The pranks continued until truce was called, George giving in first. George was not a willing loser, though. After Hermione had managed to sneak up on him while he was asleep, sit heavily on his chest, and prod him awake, her wand jabbing into his Adam's apple, he had called truce out of fear of losing more than a prank war.

During this time, George had begun to clean out Fred's room again, this time asking for Hermione's help. In a matter of two days, they had not only cleaned every inch of the room, but they had created a big window that let light into the newly bright blue room. They had boxed up Fred's personal belongings that George didn't want to keep with him, and placed them in the attic along with Fred's furniture, as George preferred his own. George was feeling a lot better lately; he didn't feel so trapped in his own mind and he was smiling and joking more, thanks to Hermione. Although he was aware of the irony of Miss Perfect being the one to start a prank war and bring a smile back to his face, he did not mind it in the slightest. In the almost three months they had been living together, they had become the best of friends, and very comfortable with each other. They still had their routine, but their habits had changed somewhat. They still had the morning schedule, with the alternating the bathroom and Hermione making breakfast, and leaving to work. George now, instead of holing himself in a dark office and losing himself in misery, was now inventing like a madman in his newly bright office. He would make his way up to the apartment about ten minutes before Hermione got home so he could start the prep work for dinner, which they would make together. At dinner, they would converse happily about whatever was on their minds, and after, they would sit in the living room, reading, talking, or playing muggle board games to which Hermione had gotten George addicted.

One Saturday morning, George was in the process of tearing his room apart. "HERMIONE?" he yelled from his bedroom.

"WHAT?" she yelled back from hers.

"HAVE YOU SEEN MY SHIRT?"

"I'VE SEEN MANY. YOU OWN QUITE A NUMBER OF THEM."

"VERY FUNNY. MY BUTTON DOWN."

"AGAIN, NOT SPECIFIC. YOU MUST OWN ABOUT FIFTEEN."

He rolled his eyes, and started walking to her room. "OH, YOU'RE EVER SO FUNNY. I meant my blu –." His sentence was cut short as he walked into a scene that would be forever etched on the inside of his eyelids. The sun was falling through the open window in bright shafts of light that made the yellow room glow. In the center of the room, on the neatly made bed, was Hermione, hair pulled back into a messy plait from which pieces were falling out. She sat cross-legged, her perfectly straight, white teeth biting the end of a muggle pen, while she was reading a book that was lying on the bed in front of her. The little line between her eyebrows that George knew she always got when she was thinking hard or upset was present, the only line marring her otherwise flawless face. Her legs, tucked under her, were clad in a pair of very short short pants and almost covering them was the blue button down he had been searching for, the sleeves rolled up, and the first two buttons undone for comfort. She was leaning forwards to read, and the shirt was falling forwards as well, hinting with shadows at what lay beneath the shirt. Suddenly, he didn't really want the shirt back. It was much better where it was.

Hermione finally tore her eyes away from her book and looked up at George. "What were you looking for?"

George was rendered speechless. That was a new thing for him, and he was even more lost because of it. "I….uhhhh…..," he mumbled.

Hermione saw where his gaze was directed, and immediately started apologizing. "Oh, gosh, George, I'm so sorry. I'm washing my clothes and I needed a shirt and your shirt was there and it's so soft and… and… and I'm sorry!" she babbled. George's brain finally clicked on as he said a slightly choked voice, "No, no, it's-it's fine. Use it any time you like." He walked out of the room and into his own in a daze. What was happening to him? He had never felt like this before. Sure, he had seen his share of many a lovely bird and had gotten on _quite_ well with a number of them, but none of them had ever affected him like this. He had chatted up many girls at Hogwarts and after, always to successful results. Why, then, was he suddenly unable to form coherent sentences around her? This was ridiculous – this was Hermione we're talking about. Tiny (compared to him), curly haired, bookworm Hermione. Was it because she was getting him back to his old self? Was it because she was suddenly giving the master pranker a run for his money? Was it because she was wearing his shirt, and it was sexier than he could have ever imagined?

'WHOAAA,' shouted the Fred-like voice in his head. 'I'm sorry, did you just call Hermione "sexy?" '

'Uhhh…I…uhh…I guess so,' said George, feeling utterly confused.

'So what is this now? Are you actually falling for your little wife?' asked Fred, in a mocking voice.

'No, I…uh…wow, yeah, she is my wife. I forgot about that…"

'So what's your plan of attack going to be?'

'Attack?' asked a thoroughly confused George.

'C'mon mate! How are you going to woo her? You two might get on nicely, if you know what I mean…"

'Oi! Watch it! She's not just some chick to get with and then ditch by making some lie about how I'm the other twin or training to be a monk.'

'Oh, the monk line. Classic. My favorite was the "I'm gay" one.'

'I had Justin Finch-Fletchley and Cedric Diggory chasing after me when you spread that.'

'Ah, pretty boy Diggory. Good times, good times.' said Fred in a falsely nostalgic voice.

'Anyways, that's not the point!' argued an angry George.

'Certainly, that's the point! You don't want to use the famous excuses with her, you're not trying to bed her, and you can barely talk around her. You're screwed.'

'What do you mean, screwed?'

'You're falling for her and you don't even know it.'

'I am not falling for Hermione!'

'Falling. HARD,' said Fred, and with a chuckle, the voice ceased, leaving George wondering.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: **Not Rowling, but appreciating the reviews and especially the reads.

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As the days progressed, George became happier and happier as he became more wrapped up in his new inventions. Unfortunately for Hermione, she had become the new unwilling test subject. Last Tuesday, as she came home from work, already in a bad mood, she walked in and straight into an invisible wall in the center of the living room.

_A resounding _crunch_ was heard, followed by a scream of pain. George ran out, not knowing what was going on, and ran straight into the other side of the wall. He fell backwards in pain. _

"_George, what wath dat?" she said, clutching her nose, which was bleeding profusely. _

"_By invithible wall," he replied, also holding a broken nose. "I loffed it earlier. I'b tho thorry, Herbione." He did a quick nonverbal spell, making the wall disappear, and crawling over to her. "Thtay thtill." With another crunch, Hermione's nose was fixed and ceased its bleeding. _

"_Hoed on," she said, her nose still plugged, and his nose was fixed just as quickly. As she quickly removed the blood from both of their fronts, and cleared their noses with "anapneo," she looked over at him, laying flat on his back. She lay back as well, staring up at the ceiling. _

"_You know, you should put a different charm on it. One that makes it so the creator can see it."_

"_Good idea," he said from the floor._

…

Two days later, she had gotten out of the shower, the water having been charmed to turn her skin orange and her shampoo to turn her hair green.

"_GEORGE FABIAN WEASLEY!" she screamed. She stormed out of the bathroom and threw open his door, slamming it against the wall so hard it made a dent. She glared at George, whose face was red from trying hard not to laugh at her appearance. _

"_GEORGE! I LOOK LIKE A BLOODY OOMPA LOOMPA!"_

"_What's an oompa loompa?" asked George quizzically._

"_IT DOESN'T MATTER! CHANGE ME BACK!" With a chuckle, he said the counter-charm and she returned to her natural coloring. She was in the process of storming off when she heard a snicker right behind her. She whirled around._

"_WHAT?" she yelled into his face. He smiled down at her, an evil grin on his face._

"_Nice outfit, Granger." She looked down, realizing that she had stormed into his room in only a towel, still soaked from the shower. She screamed and ran, almost flashing George in her rush to her room. He returned to his room, still laughing._

…

Hermione and George had been attending the Weasley Sunday dinners all the while, and everyone was getting used to the new happy George so reminiscent of the days of FredandGeorge. The first time he had cracked a joke at the dinner table, Mrs. Weasley had burst into tears and ran around the table, smothering George in a huge hug. Life seemed to be changing for the better for the Weasleys. Ginny was pregnant and Harry could not be any more excited if he tried. Charlie was off in Romania, happily married, and Ron and Luna were getting along much better. Luna was just the same as ever, with her quips and imaginary creatures, but she seemed to be a bit more connected when she was around Ron. Ron seemed to have a better sense of humor since he began living with her, and when questioned by Harry, he replied with a reluctant smile, "She's growing on me."

On the other hand, Hermione's work life was making her more and more miserable. Her bosses were unfair, her coworkers were always trying to steal her work and slander her when she accused them of it, and she had come home in tears more than once. One day, her boss sent her a memo with a request for her to do the research behind the new law he was trying to pass regarding the continuation of house elf enslavement and the cessation of payment for them. This was the last straw for Hermione, who stormed to her boss's office, memo in hand. The secretary glanced up at her approach.

"Ms. Granger, he's busy."

"He'll make time," said a furious Hermione as she stormed past.

"Ms. Granger! Ms. Granger!"

Hermione threw open the door to the office, walking into her boss's doughnut-eating time. "Busy, my arse" thought Hermione.

"Ms. Granger, what is the meaning of this?" he asked, as though she had interrupted him talking to the Minister.

"THIS IS;" she held out the memo, "THIS is the problem. You are familiar with my work on house elf rights and liberation, you are familiar that I have tried to plead against laws like this multiple times, and of all the people you could have had do the research, you pick me. Are you trying to be sadistic?"

"Ms. Granger," he replied, looking utterly calm and unconcerned in the face of her rage, "I asked you to do it because you are the one that would do a most thorough job."

"I'm sorry, I need to clarify. So you asked me to work on something that goes against everything I believe in for the same reason you hired me – because I'm EFFICIENT?"

"Yes." He watched her as if confused as to what part of this was bothering her.

"Well, you know what? I think you were hired because you suit the Ministry's needs. You can't do your own work, yet know how to hire those who are 'efficient' at doing it for you. You will happily take a top position in an important government division, yet you could care less for the rights of magical creatures and beings, just like the rest of the Ministry. You're a sadistic bastard who can't even wipe his own arse and needs someone to do it for him."

"Ms. Granger –"

"I quit. Have a nice day, you wanker." And with that, she stormed out of his office, her adrenaline pumping.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note:** Still not Rowling, but thanks for reading & reviewing!

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Hermione stormed back to her office, full of adrenaline, and conjured several boxes. She packed everything in her office with a quick sweep of her wand, and, boxes in hand, she headed to the lifts.

…

Hermione arrived home and set the boxes on the couch, knowing George wouldn't be done with work for another several hours. She sat down on the couch and looked around, sighing. Then it hit her.

"Oh no. Oh no. What have I done?" she said aloud to herself. "Oh my goodness, what have I done? I quit. Oh Merlin, did I actually say all those things to him? Where did that come from? Oh no, I don't have a job now. What am I going to do? Oh no oh no oh no."

As she was talking to herself, her head in her hands, George walked in.

"Hermione? Why are you home so early? Is everything okay?" She looked up at him, tears welling in her eyes. He saw the boxes and connected the dots. "You weren't fired?" he said, incredulous but worried.

"Quit."

"What happened?"

"They asked me to work on a law for the continued enslavement of house elves with no payment."

George knew of her love for house elves. He had teased her for that silly S.P.E.W club back at Hogwarts, but he had seen how her face lit up when she talked about them and he recognized how passionate she was about this issue. "Good for you," he said with a smile.

"Wh-what?" Hermione asked, looking up at him confusedly with tears in her cinnamon eyes. "I have no job. I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Hermione, you hated that job. Are you saying you would rather be in a job that made you miserable and went against what you believe than look for a new job?"

"No," said Hermione in a small voice.

"Good. Then here's what we do!" He pulled her up and gave her a hug. She smiled into his chest. It was quite a long hug, and when they separated, they both felt as if they would have preferred to continue instead.

"George, why aren't you at work right now?"

He shrugged and replied nonchalantly, "Needed to pee." George picked up the boxes and with an unneeded flourish, turned on his heels and brought the boxes into her room, Hermione following. He then turned around to face her and said, "Go shower and get ready."

"What?"

"Go shower and get ready."

"But I don't wan-"

"We're going out. Go get ready. Now." He then pushed a confused Hermione into the bathroom and shut the door. "I'll go get ready at Lee's. Be back in half an hour." She heard a _crack!_ and he was gone.

…

Hermione was terribly confused, but followed his orders anyways. She showered and dried off, and as she stood at the mirror, she wondered how "cleaned up" she had to be. She straightened her hair a bit so she could put it up in a nice bun, with a few strands falling flatteringly around her face. She put on her usual foundation and looked at her reflection again. "I suppose there's nothing wrong with a bit of makeup," she said to herself. She did a simple smoky eye, nothing overwhelming or campy, and some simple lip balm, preferring naturalness over lipsticks and the rest. She walked to her room and stared into her closet. She had no idea where they were going, so how was she to know how to dress? Just in time, she heard a _crack!_ and her name being called from outside her bedroom door.

"Hermione, you ready?"

"No. I don't know what to wear," she said loudly. "Where are we going?"

"Are you decent?"

It took a few second for what he said to register. "What?"

"Are you decent? I'm coming in."

"Oh." She looked down at herself, seeing a matching cream lace bra and underwear. "Hold on!" she called as she quickly pulled on the closest thing to her. "Okay!"

George opened the door and began to walk in, stopping in his tracks as he took in the sight before him. There, in front of him, was Hermione, staring anxiously into her closet, rifling through her clothes. She was made up beautifully, her hair up and away from her face, wearing only his button down shirt, from which stemmed long, slender legs that George had not known existed. It took a few seconds for his brain to begin working again, and he had to shut his mouth, which he had not known had fallen open. He thanked the powers that be that Hermione had not noticed his open-mouthed gaping, and was more than a bit embarrassed.

"George, what should I wear?"

He walked next to her, trying desperately to not to bump into her, as he was already having issues thinking. He flipped quickly through the contents of her closet and decided there was nothing suitable. He found a simple shift that looked a bit too worn. "Put this on."

"What? You can't be serious. This is what I wear when I do laundry or gardening."

The picture of Hermione gardening in a short dress flashed into his mind, and he desperately tried to banish the image as he said, "Trust me. Please."

She sighed and ushered him out of the room as she slipped on the dress. She opened the door again and stared at him, expectantly. He whipped out his wand and in a flash, Hermione was standing before him in a deep plum-colored cocktail dress that went beautifully against her pale skin. It looked almost Grecian, the neckline falling gracefully from the one shoulder it hung. It cinched at her small waist, and fell gracefully out, finishing right above her knees. Her bedroom slippers, which had been lying next to her bed, were transfigured into simple strappy silver heels. Hermione gasped as she saw herself in the mirror. As she turned, she began to ask, "But where-," but her words were lost as she beheld George, clad in a well-fitting tuxedo, his hair cut short, just how he liked it.

"You ready to go?" he asked, a smile playing across his lips.

"Uhhh…I…yeah," she managed to spit out. "Uhh…just give me one second." He left the room, and when she entered the living room a couple minutes later, she had in simple silver earrings on and a coat with her. "I'm ready," she said with a small smile.

George offered his arm, and as soon as she wrapped her arm in his, there was a _crack!_ and they were off.

…

They landed and she held on to George's arm tightly, trying to steady herself. She looked around and saw a beautiful house in front of them. As he guided her towards it, she looked around. She saw small cars and vespas parked on the street below, and saw more than a few men checking her out. She looked at George, who looked more than a bit smug at the other men's reactions. After another observation of her surroundings, the light bulb went off in her head and she turned to George, halting as they reached the doors to the grand house.

"Italy? We're in Italy?"

George smiled and said, "Florence, to be exact," adding, "And it's not ladylike to gape." Her mouth closed with a snap as he winked at her and opened the door. "After you." She walked in and gazed around, noting that this majestic house that had been turned into a restaurant. She saw an impeccably dressed young man at the front, who gazed at her, a lazy smile playing across his face. He turned to face George, and asked, «Buonasera. Qual è il tuo nome prenotazione sotto?» _(Good evening, what is your name in the book?)_

Hermione was lost, but George promptly answered, « Buonasera. Due sotto il nome di Hermione.» _(Good evening. Two under the name of Hermione.)_ Hermione looked at George, shocked. The host replied, «Ah, la cantina. Sì. Si prega di seguire me, per favore.» _(Ah, the wine cellar. Yes. Follow me, please.)_

Hermione followed the host, all the while admiring the high vaulted ceilings and the view of the tree-lined patio, where other diners were sitting. She didn't pay much attention to where they were going until George whispered, "Watch your step." They went down some stairs and ended up in a beautiful old wine cellar, a rosy glow filling the room from light bouncing off all the old bottles. In the middle of the room was a single table laid simply for two. She gasped. She had never seen something so simple, yet so beautiful. She walked over to the table, George pulling out her chair for her.

«Signora,» he said. She sat, smiling as he pushed in her chair for her and took the seat across from her.

«Il tuo cameriere sarà con voi presto. Buon appetito,» the host said with a smile, and he walked away. _(Your waiter will be with you soon.)_

Hermione stared around in amazement, then turned to look at George, who had been watching her all the while. "George. This is…I don't even have words." He grinned like a little kid who had been given a gold star. "I didn't know you spoke Italian."

"There's a lot you don't know about me," he said with a mischievous grin. "I'm an enigma wrapped in a mystery, covered in sexiness."

Hermione laughed. "Humble too." George laughed with her, and at that moment, their waiter showed up.

«Buonasera, il mio nome è Claudio. Cosa ti piace bere stasera?» the waiter asked. _(Good evening, my name is Claudio. What would you like to drink tonight?)_

"What would you like to drink?" George asked Hermione.

"Uhhh…Pellegrino?"

George smiled at her before turning to Claudio and replying, «Due Pellegrinos.» _(Two Pellegrinos.)_

Claudio disappeared up the stairs. Hermione looked quizzically at her menu. "Umm…you realize I can't read Italian, right?"

George chuckled. "Yes. Do you trust me to pick out your food for you?"

"As long as it isn't poisoned or full of some liquid prank, yes."

"Good," replied George as Claudio returned with their drinks and asked, «E cosa ti piace mangiare stasera?» _(And what would you like to eat tonight?)__  
_  
«Io avrò il petto d'oca affumicato con olio d'oliva e lei avrà il cremoso risotto con gli asparagi.» _(I will have the smoked goose breast with olive oil, and she will have the creamy risotto with asapagus.)_ Claudio turned and left Hermione looking questioningly at a content George.

"What did you-"

"Nope!" cut in George. "It's a surprise!"

"How did you even know about this place? It's amazing!"

"It's not widely known, because I'm generally not one to throw around my bookishness," he paused to stare pointedly at her, "but I love European history. This was the house of a famous Italian painter."

She stared at George, wondering how much she didn't know about the man in front of her. Claudio returned with their meals, which were heavenly, in Hermione's opinion. A while later, Claudio returned and asked, «Possiamo ti interessano in qualsiasi stasera dessert?» _(Can we interest you in any dessert tonight?)_

George quickly replied, «No, grazie, possiamo avere il conto per favore.» _(No, thank you, can we have the bill please?)_ George paid the bill, refusing to let Hermione even see it, and they were off with a «Avere una bella serata» _(Have a beautiful night.)_ from the waiter and the host.

Hermione and George walked, arms linked, for a little while, when suddenly a sneaky smile crossed Hermione's face. She stopped and turned to George.

"You know, George Weasley, if I didn't know any better, I'd think this was a date."

George smiled and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I think that's exactly what it was. Aren't I allowed to take my wife on a date?" Hermione blushed at him calling her "_my_ _wife_."

"Did you have fun?" asked George. Hermione looked up at him, seeing the nervousness he was trying to mask.

"You know, I think this might have been the best date I've ever been on," she replied with a smile. George leaned down, the arms around her waist tightening slightly. Hermione's eyes fluttered closed and her arms slowly snaked around his neck as their lips met softly. The kiss was not too quick, yet not long enough to deepen into something else. As they slowly broke apart and smiled at each other, George removed his arms from around her and entwined his hand in hers. "Let's go home."

And with a _crack!_, they were gone.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: **Started spring quarter, so the chapters will be coming in a bit slower. Never fear, though, this story is continuing! Still not Rowling, but much thanks for all the reads, reviews, follows, and favorites!

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Life at the Granger/Weasley residence had become a much happier place. Not only was George almost back to his old self, but Hermione was much happier now that she was not in her miserable and oppressive job. She did worry about finding another job, but George tried to keep her as distracted as possible. With more time on her hands, Hermione redecorated the house, redesigned the kitchen and bathroom, and reorganized Weasley's Wizard Wheezes as well. In her ample free time, she helped out in the store and occasionally helped George with tweaking his new inventions, including helping him work on the prototype one that had been mentioned in Fred's notes.

During this time, George kept bringing Hermione on interesting dates that almost always were set in another country. They had a picnic in Scotland, a museum trip in France, and even ventured to a muggle amusement park in the United States.

During the picnic, they had spent most of the time lying in the sun, trading memories from childhood, favorite stories, and random personal facts. Hermione learned that George's favorite color was green, he hated any cabbage, and used to hide his unwanted food in his pockets as a child, disposing of them later in the garden. George learned that Hermione had always wanted brothers and sisters, but had always been an only child, that her favorite ice cream flavor was cinnamon, that she had hated how she looked until about 3rd year, when she started growing into her looks, and one of her favorite random Hogwarts memories was when she had been able to shrink her teeth to be shorter and straight because a jinx of Malfoy's had hit her. She talked about missing Crookshanks, who she had left with her parents when she left to search for horcruxes with Harry and Ron, and he asked her about her opinions on new design ideas.

On the day of the museum trip, George crept into her dark bedroom at eight in the morning. He smiled as he looked at her, her small form somehow taking up the whole bed. She was lying on her stomach, her arms wrapped around a large pillow into which her face was shoved. Her hair fanned around her, almost like a halo. He stifled a chuckle as he watched her shift in her sleep, tangling herself more the sheets, covering only half of her body. Her arms and one leg were out of the sheets, and the bed covers were dangling off the foot of the bed, probably kicked off in the middle of the night. He tiptoed up to her and whispered right in her ear.

"_Hermione_…"

With a shriek, Hermione shot out of bed and in a flash, George was flat on his back on the ground, the breath knocked out of him, a terrified and armed Hermione stood above him, ready to attack, her war reflexes taking over.

"HERMIONE! HERMIONE! IT'S ME! IT'S GEORGE! DON'T ATTACK!" he gasped.

Hermione finally actually looked at him and realization shone through the haze of sleep covering her eyes.

"Wha-, I-, oh! George! I'm so sorry!" she rushed over to him, and offered her hand. He took it and shakily stood up.

"Remind me to never try and wake you up," he said, still trying to catch his breath.

"Oh George! I'm so sor- wait, why were you trying to wake me up?" asked Hermione, who had gotten used to sleeping in, now that she was unemployed.

"We're going somewhere."

"And it requires waking me up at-," she glanced at her clock, "eight in the morning?"

"Yes. It's an all-day thing, trust me."

"Uhh…okay. I'll go get ready."

When they were ready, they disapperated and landed in an alley way that lead out to a busy metro station.

"Wait…wher-," Hermione tried to say, but her words were cut off as George began to run, dragging her along behind him. They ran through the metro, George leading them into dead ends twice, and finally ended up at a station, from which a train was about to leave.

"Here we are!" George said brightly.

"Where's here?" asked Hermione, looking around. Suddenly she gasped, and dragged George as she began running to the opening that was at the end of the station. They ran into a spacious open room that was made of a peach-colored stone. There were small display cases everywhere, showing random historical artifacts. Hermione squealed in delight.

"The Louvre? George, this is one of my favorite places! How did you know?"

"I remembered Ron complaining about how you kept talking about your trip to France years ago," said George, smiling at her shining eyes and cheeks flushed with excitement.

"I can't believe you remembered that! Have you ever been?"

"Nope," replied George, "I figured you could show me around."

They spent the whole day walking through the different galleries, taking an especially long time at the Mona Lisa and the statue of Venus de Milo, which were Hermione's favorites. George was fascinated with all the paintings and kept asking Hermione to explain the muggle history behind each piece. He did, however, constantly exclaim, "But it doesn't talk or even move? What's the point then?" earning many chuckles from eavesdropping muggles, thinking he was mad. When they got to the sculpture gallery, George couldn't contain his glee. He created voices and a dialogue or story line for every sculpture they looked at, and they were asked to "_calmez-vous_" because their laughter was getting a bit too loud. After they had gone through the museum, they realized they had skipped lunch in their excitement. They found a small café a little ways from the Louvre and sat, enjoying their _croque-monsieurs_ and Orangina. They disapperated back home, but not before Hermione had bought several books on French history for George, who was entranced by all the stories of kings and wars, even though he kept poking the pictures with his wand, trying to get them to move.

The next week, Hermione had decided to take George to a muggle amusement park, thinking he would act like a little kid on a sugar high. She was not wrong. From the moment they arrived, she was bombarded with questions, dragged from ride to ride, and made to take ridiculously cheesy photos. They were having a fantastic time until George made three discoveries – muggle candy floss, churros, and a huge rollercoaster. It was a disaster. George, against Hermione's warnings and insistence, had decided to eat two huge things of candy floss that were bigger than his head, as well as five churros. He then proceeded to drag Hermione onto the biggest roller coaster in the park, which flipped multiple times and even went upside down and backwards. She refused to go on a second time, so he went without her, teetering off extremely dizzy and extremely green. Hermione had had to apperate them home, then rub his back and give him water as he proceeded to vomit up everything in their newly redecorated bathroom.

During these weeks, George had been watching Hermione when she was helping in the shop. She seemed so happy helping people and was especially good at dealing with the younger kids. She really knew how to help people but make sure they understood the products and its consequences as well. One day, the light bulb went off and he brought up his new idea at the dinner table.

"Hermione?" he asked questioningly, looking over his plate of homemade stew and baked potatoes.

"Hmm?" she said, filling her fork.

"About you finding a job…"

Her face paled and she looked nervous. "Oh George, I'm so sorry. I don't mean to be a burden. I've been looking but –"

"I think you should work with me at the shop," said George at the same time.

"What?" they both asked in tandem. They both repeated their part at the same time again.

"What?" they both asked again. George finally reached over and covered Hermione's mouth with his hand.

"Why don't you come work at the shop?" She replied with a mumble.

"Come again?" asked George. Hermione pried his hand off.

"I said, 'Really?'."

"Yeah! You're really helpful with the inventing and you know all the products and, and, you're just brilliant." George finished, somewhat lamely.

"That sounds fantastic! Thank you so much George!" she said, beaming as she rushed over and enveloped him in a hug. George smiled into her hair, and hugged her back.

"You're welcome," he replied as she started backing out from the hug. Suddenly, he felt her lips on his. It was over too soon for his liking.

"Thank you! Oh, I'm so excited! When do I start?" she said, almost bouncing off the walls from excitement.

"Uhh…," replied George, trying to get his brain to function again, "It's Friday, so how about Monday?"

With a squeal of excitement, Hermione ran to her bedroom, presumably to write to Ginny, leaving George somewhat dazed and resisting the urge to follow her and continue what had been so brief.


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: **Started spring quarter, so the chapters will be coming in a bit slower. Sadly, I have to put my school first. ;) Never fear, though, this story is continuing! Still not Rowling, but much thanks for all the reads, reviews, follows, and favorites!

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Hermione was overjoyed to start work at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, but when she went to lunch on Sunday with Verity, to whom she had become close, Verity had a different viewpoint.

"So has he done it yet?" asked Verity over their drinks of iced pumpkin juice.

"Done what?" Hermione asked quizzically.

"Prank you," replied Verity. "He pranks every new member. It usually lasts their entire first week. Since you seemed unscathed, it's seems safe to say that the storm is coming."

"I don't think he would. He tests pranks on me all the time. Although it's annoying, he always fixes it immediately. I doubt he would make one last a week on me."

Verity smirked at Hermione's innocence. "Oh c'mon. You've known George long enough that he will never turn down an excuse to prank someone."

Hermione knew Verity was right, and did not like it. "Well, I know where he sleeps," she said with a cockiness she did not feel. "He tries anything, and he's a dead man."

The two girls laughed and carried on with their lunch, but the warning never left Hermione's mind.

…

She watched George all afternoon, watching for signs of possible pranks. To her relief and consternation, George seemed just the same. He was lying on the couch, reading an advanced charms book, while many other like books were strewn on the table and ground next to him. She watched him over the top of her book, desperately searching for suspicious signs – seeing him so normal was making her even more uneasy, for she didn't know what to expect.

"I know I'm sexy, but is it truly necessary to watch me that closely?" said a voice smugly, breaking the silence. Hermione blushed and returned to her book. After about ten minutes, though, she was back to watching him. She sensed he was about to look up and her eyes flicked back down to her book. She heard him shift across from her and looked up. He was lying on his side, he's head propped up on his left hand, staring back at her.

"So what is it, then? Are you testing me for outward signs of poison ingestion? Am I growing multiple unnecessary appendages?"

"No, it's-it's nothing," she said hurriedly. She looked away, but feeling his eyes still on her, she looked back at him. He looked at her expectantly. "It's just that Verity said you always prank new members their first week, and-"

"And you're worried I'm going to prank you," finished George. "Relax, Hermione." He moved back onto his back and resumed his research. After a moment, his eyes slid back to her. She was still watching him. "Yeeeessss?" he asked.

"Are you?" she asked nervously.

"Am I what?"

"Going to prank me!"

"Haven't decided yet." He chuckled at the look of horror on her face as he got up from the couch and stretched. "I fancy I'm going to have myself a shower now." He smiled and stopped as he was about to pass her. He kissed her lightly on the top of the head and said, "You can have the shower when I'm out." He smiled, knowing he was now leaving her doubly confused.

…

Hermione was reading on the couch still, although she was not taking in a word of it. She heard the water turn off, but didn't think much of it. She suddenly heard padding footsteps and, raised her eyes when they had stopped. She was looking straight at the torso of a very scantily clad George. Her eyes traveled up from the towel, which was loosely held around his hips, to his muscular abdomen to which droplets of water still hung, to his face, on which a smirk was set under mischievous blue eyes.

"Like what you see, Granger?" he said smugly.

She rolled her eyes. "Get over yourself, Weasley." She tried to push past him, but instead was forced back from the collision with his damp chest.

"Shower's open," he said, his eyes twinkling. She made a derisive noise and finally successfully pushed past him, not hearing his chuckle as he watched her expectantly.

…

She walked into the bathroom, mentally thanking George for having dried and defogged the room. She shut the door behind her and turned on the faucet. She stripped off her clothes and climbed into the shower, sighing happily at the heat on her tense shoulders. She started washing her hair, her eyes closed to avoid getting soap in them. She was in the middle of rinsing when she suddenly felt something sticky creeping down her back. "What the –," she said quietly to herself. She wiped her hand across her back to make sure she was just imagining it. She glanced at her hand, and yelled in shock.

Pounding footsteps could be heard over the stream of water, and the bathroom door flew open.

"WHAT? WHAT HAPPENED? ARE YOU OKAY?" He threw open the shower curtain and was face to back with Hermione.

"George! What is on me? What is that?" she asked, almost crying from shock and a bit of fear.

"It looks like a sort of tar-like substance." He wiped his forefinger across her back, making her unconsciously shiver from his cold hand contrasting with her warmth from the shower. He looked at it and then rinsed his finger under the stream from the faucet. The substance faded quickly from his hand. "Just wash, it comes right off."

"WHAT IS IT THOUGH?" Hermione asked hysterically.

"Dunno," responded George, trying desperately to keep the smile from his voice. He turned to leave and said as he walked out the door, "Cute birthmark you've got over your bum."

He chuckled and closed the door with a snap, muffling Hermione's cries of shock and mortification.

…

'That was utterly embarrassing," thought Hermione to herself. She finished her shower, thankful that creepy tar stuff had gone, and stepped onto the bathmat, beginning to dry herself. After she finished drying herself, she tied her hair up in the towel and started putting lotion on. She left the bathroom and headed quickly to her bedroom, still wary of any possible pranks of George's. She picked out a sport bra, a big shirt and some men's boxers she used as pajama bottoms. She grabbed her comb, flipped her head over, letting the towel fall off, and went to comb her hair. But it wasn't there to comb. Terrified, Hermione rushed to the mirror and let out an ear-shattering scream. Once again, George ran in, but this time he burst out laughing when he saw her. There was Hermione, eyes huge and terrified, staring at her reflection, which now included a bubblegum pink pixie cut instead of her usual long brown hair.

"Y-y-you look like Tonks," George managed to get out in between fits of laughter. He slumped to the floor, clutching his sides. Hermione's head whipped in his direction and her eyes blazed with fury.

"YOU." She rushed at him and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him up. "You did this?"

George didn't answer because he was overcome with laughter. She let go of him and in a flash, George lay on the floor of her bedroom, cursing and holding his nose. Hermione looked down at him in fury, holding her fist, which was covered in blood from having broken George's nose. One of the knuckles was already beginning to bruise from how hard she had hit him.

"WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL WAS THAT FOR?" shouted George.

"LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO MY HAIR!"

"IT'S A LAUGH!"

"IT'S NOT FUNNY AT ALL! CHANGE IT BACK!"

"I CAN'T!"

There was silence, in which George silently repaired his nose.

"You can't?" Hermione repeated in a deadly whisper.

"It lasts a week and it washes out on its own. Sorry about the tar, I need to fix that."

"YOU TESTED A PRANK ON ME AND YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO FIX IT?"

"I do know! I do! It washes out, like I said! But each hair style lasts at least a day, so you can't wash them out all at once." He seemed to shrink under Hermione's furious glare. "I'm sorry?" he said sweetly.

"GET OUT!"

George ran, fearing bodily harm again.

…

Hermione came out a while later, having tried every spell she could think of to get rid of this new hairstyle. She walked out to the living room and sat down, noticing late that George was not in the room with her. She heard quiet footsteps behind her and turned her head. A few feet from her was George, looking like a little kid who had just gotten spanked. She looked at him and felt her anger drain away. It was like trying to be mad at a cute puppy that had brought his favorite toy to you, trying to get forgiveness. It just wasn't possible to stay mad. He walked towards her slowly and held out a huge tub of ice cream, on which two spoons rested.

"I'm really sorry 'Mione. Ice cream?" he said apologetically. "It's your favorite."

Hermione sighed deeply and stared into his eyes, seeing how scared he was at her being mad. "If it means I get the ice cream, then yes, you're forgiven." George beamed and plopped down next to her, offering her a huge spoon. Hermione looked at it for a second and then realization hit.

"George, did you get our serving spoons to eat this with?" She looked up from the spoon and saw he already had half of the spoon in his mouth, busy shoveling what must have been a cup of ice cream into his mouth.

"Waa?" he replied.

"Eww, don't talk. Seriously. You just shoved half the container into your mouth."

They sat happily, eating the huge tub of ice cream with serving spoons, looking ridiculous and thoroughly enjoying themselves.

"You know," George said in between mouthfuls, "You look cute with this. Very punky."

Hermione rubbed her hand through her hair, not used to how short it was. "You think?"

"Yea, you're adorable." He smiled at her and pulled her to him with one arm. She grinned and shook her head, reaching for the ice cream.

"By the way, George," Hermione said, tilting her head to look up at him, "if this stays, you're going to be worse than dead." George gulped, unconsciously feeling his nose, which still hurt a bit.

…

The next morning, they went through their morning routine as usual, although no matter how hard Hermione scrubbed, the pink pixie cut stayed. A frustrated yell was heard from the shower.

"It'll change tonight when you shower," yelled George from the hallway. Hermione walked down the hallway a few minutes later in her towel and past the living room, where George was reading the Daily Prophet. He looked up as she passed.

"Hey! At least you don't have to worry about wrapping your head when you leave the shower," he said with a smile. She rolled her eyes and walked into her room. After a few minutes, she exited, holding her magenta robes in her hands.

"I'm going to look ridiculous," she said, pouting as she sat down at the table.

"How so?" said George, his back to her as he poured her some tea.

"You're joking, right? I'm going to my first day with bright pink hair and dark pink robes."

"You'll do fine, just calm down." He set the tea down in front of her, already sweetened how she liked his. He kissed her softly on the lips. "You'll be brilliant, as always," he said, looking into her eyes after the kiss ended.

" 'Kay," she said quietly, smiling and looking bashful.

They walked into the shop a little while later, and opened the shop, even though Lee and Verity, who had been dating for several months now, were not yet there. Mornings were always slow, so they waited at the front of the store, playing wizard's chess. A few hours later, Verity and Lee walked in.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF MERLIN HAPPENED TO YOUR HAIR?" was the first thing said, or rather, screamed by Verity.

"The week-long prank you warned me about," sighed Hermione.

"You got it easy," said a grinning Lee, who had just finished high-fiving George. "I looked like a snake-man all week. And Verity here had to sing every fifth word. That got annoying, let me tell you."

They all looked at George, who was staring off reminiscently. "Ah, good times…"

…

After Hermione's first official day of work, she was ready for a shower. One kid had been a bit over-excited and had spilled a vial of bulbadox powder on her as well as himself. Although she was able to cease the production of boils on her body, she still itched terribly. She got into the steam-filled shower and started to wash. She felt the familiar sticky sensation on her back and tried her best to ignore it as she washed away the weird residue. She dried herself and wrapped her head in a towel, which was a habit. After putting on lotion, she let down the towel and looked resignedly at the mirror. It was completely fogged over. She did a quick spell to clear the air and looked again in the mirror. Now she had dirty blonde hair that stopped at the bottom of her shoulder blades. It was wavy and looked like the girls on the beaches from American magazines.

'Well, at least it dries and styles itself,' she thought resignedly.

She walked to her room and put on pajamas, ready for bed. "NIGHT!" she yelled from her bedroom.

"NIGHT!" she heard from George's.

…

Hermione was getting used to the pattern now. Although she didn't usually shower at night as well as in the morning, she was now doing it not only for the hair changing spell to get out of her system, but also because of what she got spilled on her at work. Today it was a weird purple goo that was moving on its own. A clumsy teenage boy had knocked over a temporary hair loss product and a Wonder Witch daydream potion, and this weird writhing mass was the product. She sighed as she turned on the faucet, thinking of all the blonde jokes that had been directed her way that day. It had gotten quite tiring after a while, and she was somewhat thankful she was not actually a blonde. After her shower, she took down her hair from her towel and found jet black hair. It was pin-straight and was cut in a bob that stopped level with her chin. Her fringe had grown fuller and very even, so she looked much more angular than usual.

When she walked out in her pajamas to see where George was, she caught a quick glance of herself in a window and had to do a double take from fear. She ran into George's room. He glanced up at her, then did a double take, a matching look of horror on his face.

"Merlin's pants, Hermione! I thought Parkinson just walked into my room!"

"I thought the same thing! This is awful! I don't want to look like that pug!" she wailed in despair, sitting down on his bed next to his feet.

"Hermione, you will never look like Parkinson. Ever. It's just a similar haircut. Don't worry about it. Just wear a scarf or hat tomorrow and it'll be gone in no time."

"If this stays, I'm murdering you," came her voice, muffled from her face being in her hands. George moved next to her and hugged her.

"I know," he said with a smile. "I've already got my epitaph written." Hermione chuckled and raised her head as he kissed her on the cheek.

"Goodnight George."

"Goodnight Hermione."

…

The next day, Verity kept bothering Hermione, insisting she put her hair down, but she refused. Hermione had tucked her hair into a newsboy cap and would not take it off. She was desperate to change it and even left early to rush upstairs and shower. When she came out later for ice cream, George glanced up and muttered, "Hey Gin, how's life being preggers?"

"EXCUSE ME?" yelled Hermione's voice. George looked up and the blood drained from his face. He was looking into the face of his very angry wife, who looked like the twin of his little sister.

"I'm so sorry, 'Mione! At a quick glance you look like Ginny. You could be her twin with this new hair." Her hair this time was very long, almost to her bum, curly, and flaming red.

"Your sister is pregnant. Do I look pregnant to you?" said Hermione in a deadly voice.

"N-no, not at all! I just- like I said, you just-, I mean-, you look just like Ginny at a quick glance."

She glared at him and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "Merlin, you look just like her when she's angry."

"This is ridiculous, George!" she yelled. "First I look like Tonks, then Parkinson, and now your sister!"

"I'm sorry?" he said in a small voice, holding a pillow in front of his face. She huffed and walked out of the room, her bedroom door shutting loudly a minute later.

…

This was definitely Hermione's worst hair day at the shop. Everyone was constantly teasing them, saying they looked more like brother and sister than husband and wife, and many times during the day, she was actually called "Ginny." The worst part, though, was when Ginny and Harry decided to make a surprise visit to WWW. Hermione was in the back and didn't hear them come in. She walked out carrying several boxes that towered above her head. She heard George talking to familiar voices and placed the boxes down on the counter.

"Hi Gin! Hi Harry!" she said from behind the boxes.

"Hi Hermio- OH MERLIN!" Harry said, staring at Hermione. Ginny and Hermione stared at each other and Harry and George stared from one girl to the other.

"If it wasn't for the eye color, they'd be identical," said George in amazement.

"What happened?" said a shocked Ginny. Hermione and George proceeded to explain the prank and what color and style she had had each day, gaining much laughter.

"Well, if today wasn't confusing enough," said Lee, walking up. "Which one is Hermione?" Hermione raised her hand and Lee told her of a customer that was having problems. She said goodbye to her friends and went off to help the customer, leaving Lee to say his hellos.

…

That night, Hermione washed her hair and was thrilled to see her normal hair was back. When she went out to see George, he looked more frustrated than happy.

"Damn," he said, "It's missing a day. I need to go fix that." With that, he was off down the stairs to his workroom.

"Could have said it looked nice or something," she muttered as she walked away. She heard a knock on her bedroom door a little while later, just as she was falling asleep. "Wha?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Hermione?" George poked his head into her room.

"What? Iwassleeping," she mumbled.

"I'm taking you out Saturday night to celebrate your first week."

"Kay."

"And you're hair looks nice back to normal."

"Thanksnightnight," she mumbled, and before George had even shut the door, she was back to sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the long wait! Still not Rowling, but thanks for reading!

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When George woke up the next morning, he was surprised that he did not hear the sound of the shower running, as Hermione showered every morning at the same time. He walked out of his room, rubbing his eyes and yawning, heading towards the bathroom. Hermione was not there. After taking a quick shower, he changed quickly and headed to the kitchen, sure she would be having breakfast. Hermione was again absent. "Hermione?" he called, but no response came to him. He got up and headed to her room, whose door was cracked open. "Hermione?" he called again, knocking lightly on her door. He was again met with silence. Starting to get worried, he searched her room but to no avail. Grabbing some toast, he headed down to the shop, hoping she was there. "Hermione?" he called once more and breathed a sigh of relief when he heard a small voice call back, "Yeah?" It was coming from the direction of the workroom. He walked in and smiled as he saw Hermione, bent over pages of scribbles and diagrams.

"You're up early this morning."

"Yes," replied Hermione, chewing on the tip of a muggle pencil. "I had to fix something."

"It's just…I was looking for you this morning. I usually hear your shower running when I wake up."

"Awww…did Georgie miss me?" she said teasingly, standing up from her chair. "I'm safe; no need to worry." She wrapped her arms around his waist. He was a little surprised at this romantic gesture, but hugged her back and asked, "So you ready to open the shop?"

"Sure," she replied. She had a mischievous look about her, but he disregarded this fleeting thought. They opened the shop and stood around aimlessly. Hermione started rearranging bottles. George took out his wand and did a nonverbal spell to clean up. Before he knew what was happening, he was hanging in the air by his ankle, completely out of breath and red in the face from a tickling sensation that would not cease.

"He-Her-Her-Hermione," he managed to gasp out. He caught sight of her as he slowly spun in the air, registering her evil grin and satisfied demeanor. She was leaning casually against the front counter, her arms crossed lazily, watching him with a sort of fierce pride.

"Her-Her-Hermione! Ma-ma-ma-make it st-st-st-st-STOP!"

"I don't know if I should," she drawled, sounding uncannily like Malfoy. "After making me suffer for a week, I think this is fair game."

"Notaweek!" George managed to spit out in the midst of his gasps.

"Hmm? What was that?" Hermione asked, looking like a cat that had caught the canary.

"Four days! Not-not-not a week!" he gasped out.

"So, to make it fair, this should last….four minutes?" Hermione said smiling vindictively.

"NO!" shouted George.

"Oh, alright then. Since I'm such a benevolent wife…" and with a _crash!_, he dropped to the ground, landing on a heap in the floor. George lay there for a few moments, gasping and trying desperately to regain his breath and composure.

"You alright, honey?" Hermione said sardonically, her voice dripping with sweetness.

"Piss off," George muttered from the floor. Hermione sat down next to him. He glared up at her.

"Oh put a sock in it. You should be grateful I didn't do worse. Actually, you should be thanking me. Practically bowing at my feet."

"Oh really?" replied George skeptically. "And why, pray tell, would I do that?"

"Oh, no reason. Just that I managed to perfect Fred's trick wand idea."

George sat up suddenly, all anger and ache forgotten. "What? REALLY?"

Hermione looked at him incredulously. "How do you think all that just happened to you?"

"But- but I have-,"

"Your wand?" said Hermione with a smile, pulling his real wand out from her back pocket.

"Wha-? How?" George stuttered.

"You didn't think there was anything suspicious about that hug?" she grinned at him. He looked at her incredulously.

"You sneaky little minx! I can't believe you tricked me!"

"I may have always been one for the rules, but brains help when it comes to pranking." She grinned at him and handed him back his real wand. She stood and offered her hand, helping him up.

"So, so how did you get it to work?" asked George, intrigued despite his anger. Hermione lifted herself onto the counter, crossing her legs and smiling widely.

"Fred was looking to combine Mobiliarbus and Rictusempra, but those two spells can't combine. That's why you were having such problems. It worked when Rictusempra and Levicorpus were combined, and the same general prank comes across. I like it a bit better with the hanging upside down rather than simply floating."

George stared at her, dumbfounded. "That's- that's bloody brilliant, Hermione!"

She blushed and suddenly looked shy. "Thanks," she mumbled. George watched her and felt an urge to run over and kiss her, but right as he was about to act on the impulse, a teenage boy walked in, setting off the bell on the door. Hermione hopped off the counter nimbly and walked over to the newcomer, offering her help and leaving George feeling both frustrated with himself for not having the courage to act on his impulse and irritated that the boy had interrupted what had been about to be a moment.

A little later, George was again busy watching Hermione as she helped around the store. He had taken over register duty in order to let Hermione do some walking around, but really, he just wanted to watch her. He watched her, grinning to himself as he catalogued all her little quirks in his mind. Like how she ran her fingers through her hair when she was thinking and unsure what to say. How she never seemed to stay still, but was constantly shifting weight from foot to foot. How her smile brightened when she was frustrated with a customer, as though all her energy was going into maintaining good customer service, even though all she wanted to do was rip the person in half. How her eyes sparkled when she laughed. How she would sneak glances at him when it looked like he wasn't looking.

'How you fancy her something painful?' said a voice in his head, a smirk audible in the tone.

'What?' George thought back.

'How her eyes sparkle? Really, mate? Why is it you rarely think of her baps or arse? Her eyes sparkling. Really? What a bloody romant- Oh great, now I've got you checking her out. That was not my point!'

George tore his eyes away from Hermione. 'I am not checking her out.'

"You were. I'm not going to argue with you. As the eternally smarter and better looking twin, I declare that your argument is invalid.'

'Fred, I d-,'

'Shuttup. You fancy her. She's your wife, so I bloody well hope you would. Why am I bothering you presently? Because you need to find wherever you misplaced your bollocks and start acting like a man.'

'Not a man? Fred, you wound me!'

'Uh huh, yeah, I'm sure. Get to it, mate. This is getting ridiculous.'

"George?"

"Huh?" George's arm slipped in shock and his chin fell onto the desk with a reverberating _smack! _He looked up, dazed and rubbed his aching chin. There, in front of him, was a worried looking Hermione and a very confused looking customer.

"You okay?"

"I, uh, yeah. I just zoned out."

"Alright…well he wants to check out. I leave you to it." She left, but shot a worried glance back at him.

…

As closing time drew near, George was trying to keep focused on the tasks at hand instead of on Hermione, who was becoming more of a problem for him, as he was tending to watch her more than he should. When closing time came around at 6, George recalled his promise to take Hermione out and wondered if she even remembered. She was in the back, he knew, and he decided to go find her. "Hey Hermione?"

"Yeah?" he heard somewhat muffled from the staff room. He walked in, too focused on his train of thought to think of knocking.

"Hey, so remember I said I would take you out after your first week? It's Saturday; you're first full week is completed. I say it's time to go out." He finally looked up from the papers in his hand and noticed that he had walked in on Hermione pulling off her magenta robes. It was not like the sight was anything indecent, for she had muggle clothes underneath, but with his preoccupation with her today, even the small strip of skin visible when her shirt had ridden up was distracting.

"I, uh, so yeah? Sounds good?" he fumbled as he tried to recover his composure. Hermione did not seem to have noticed anything.

"Yeah. Let me head up and change first." They walked upstairs to the flat and changed into clean clothes. "Where to?" asked Hermione as they walked out of the store ten minutes later.

"The Cracked Wand. It's right down the street and it's a favorite place of mine. Great fish and chips."

They walked down to the pub and were soon seated with firewhiskey in front of them. Soon came the fish and chips, accompanied by more firewhiskey. They were having such a nice time just talking and enjoying each other's company that they didn't notice how much they were drinking. After about two hours of drinking and talking, their chat became much more honest, yet much more entertaining.

"-An' Mrs. Norris turned green!" George was saying, a goofy grin on his face. Hermione giggled and took another sip of her drink. "An' you know what?," George said smiling, "You never liked me and Fred. _Hic! _You were such a bitch to us."

Hermione giggled and waved an unsteady finger at him. "I din'nt hate chew guys. I think I hated that chew guys never worked hard, and still got great marks. An' everyone loved you. _Hic!_ It just wasn't fair to me." They exchanged grins and George looked at her with unfocused eyes.

"You were too busy being a know-it-all. You're cooler now. Not so," George stuck his nose in the air and made what he presumed was a snooty face. "Ya know?"

Hermione giggled uncontrollably. "I know, you know? It bothered me that you guys were so good looking and so smart and all you did was make people laugh. You two pissed me off because I couldn't be so laisez-faire like that." She chuckled and looked back at him.

"Laisez-_hic _-faire? Look at you, being all fancy." They both broke into uncontrollable laughter.

"You-you know," said George through his laughter, "you were always so bossy and-and-and frizzy-haired. What happened? You're beautiful now."

Hermione giggled and her nose scrunched up, "You think I'm beautiful?"

"You don't?" replied George, somewhat incredulously.

"No!" said Hermione, giggling a bit. "I guess I'm pretty but I'm no Fleur or Ginny."

George looked at her very seriously. Hermione, under all of her alcohol-induced giddiness, felt a bit uncomfortable being examined so closely and with such intensity.

"You're no Fleur," George said. "You're better." They stared at each other for a few seconds. George and Hermione simultaneously leaned across the table and their lips met. What began slow and soft built up as uninhibited passion due to copious amounts of alcohol spurred them on.

Fifteen minutes later found the couple at the door of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, staggering and laughing in between passionate kisses. They broke apart as George tried to unlock the door without success. "Damn door, I-"

"Alohamora," said Hermione, smiling as the door slowly swung open. George stared at her smug face before kissing her again. They made their way slowly and unsteadily up the stairs, halting as George opened the door and let Hermione enter. George shut the apartment door behind them, then resumed kissing Hermione with fervor. She walked away backwards, making him follow her. He caught her as she got into the hallway, pressing her back against a door as they kissed. He felt Hermione's lips twist into a smile in the middle of their kiss and noticed her hands trail away from the nape of his neck. She began unbuttoning his shirt, fumbling as she was more focused on kissing him. The kiss broke apart suddenly.

"Why the bloody hell are the buttons on men's shirts the opposite way?"

He chuckled as he saw her flushed face frowning at his shirt. He looked up and realized where they were. In one swift motion, he pulled his shirt over his head, pushed open the door, and picked up Hermione, her legs wrapping around his waist. They resumed their kissing as they disappeared into the dark room.

Hermione's bedroom door closed with a snap.


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all the reads, reviews, follows and favorites! Still not Rowling.

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Hermione was slowly being roused from sleep, feeling chilly. She searched for warmth, still half-asleep, and found her head was on a warm pillow. She snuggled up to the warm pillow, wrapping herself around it, and drifted back to sleep.

…

George felt something soft and warm wrap around him. He contributed it to his sheets, and fell back into his dream.

…

Hermione distantly felt something warm wrap around her waist. She snuggled up to her pillow closer, enjoying the warmth. She drifted off.

…

George turned his head and it came to rest in something soft that tickled his nose. He wiggled his nose, trying to rid himself of the itch, and fell back to sleep.

…

Hermione shifted and realized that her pillow was not quite as soft as it usually was. She tried to shift again, but found her head and upper body were indeed laying on something warm, but rather hard. She dimly thought that this was wrong, but she was too comfortable to worry about it. She was just drifting back to sleep, she felt her pillow shift and wrap an arm around her.

'Wait.

Pillows don't have arms.

Wait.

What?'

Hermione finally opened her eyes and saw her head was resting on someone's chest. She blinked and looked around without moving her head. 'It looks like my room," Hermione thought. 'But who is this and why am I sleeping on him?' She tried to move her head and found that it was pounding, making her feel slightly queasy. As she rolled off the chest, she felt the body next to her shift.

"Morning," said a familiar sleepy voice.

Hermione looked over at an apparently shirtless George who was lying next to her, smiling sleepily at her as he rubbed his eyes. "Sleep well?" he asked with a little grin.

"Why are you in my bed? And why does my head hurt so damn much?" Hermione asked, thoroughly confused and thrown off by the pounding in her head. She looked down at herself and suddenly did a double take, pulling up the blankets as she looked under them.

"WHY AM I NAKED?" George chuckled and she looked over at him. Suddenly, she paled and looked over at him. "WHY ARE YOU NAKED?"

George smiled and leaned over, trying to kiss her. Like a flash, Hermione was off the bed, standing and looking about wildly. George lost balance and fell face-first into the pillows, not having expected her to move. "Mione," he began as he started to sit up, then stopped as he surveyed her. A small smirk crept across his face. "Please do keep standing. I don't mind the view at all."

Hermione looked down and let out a terrified squeak. She had forgotten she was standing in front of him wearing absolutely nothing. She hurriedly reached over and with strength George did not know she possessed, she pulled the sheets, throwing him clean off the bed and onto the floor on the other side.

"Oof!" was heard from the other side of the bed, followed quickly by, "Owww."

"Oh George," said Hermione worriedly as she rushed over to him. "I'm so sorry! I- ohhh…" The thought was never finished as George had turned over to face her and she had quickly turned her back, blushing furiously. "Um, George?"

"Yeah?" he replied as he struggled to stand up.

"What happened?"

"What do you mean what happened?" asked George, chuckling. "Isn't it kind of obvious? Don't you remember?"

"George. What. Happened," Hermione replied seriously, her back still turned to him.

She heard an aggravated sigh behind her. "For the love of Merlin," George muttered before responding. "We had sex, alright Hermione? There you go. We had sex. And you have a hangover. Now could you calm the bloody hell down?"

Hermione was frozen as memories of the night before flooded her mind. She blushed furiously, but was suddenly spun around. George stared at her exasperatedly for a few seconds before kissing her sweetly. Hermione felt dazed and one arm clung to George to steady herself from all that had just happened.

"Well-, I-, I guess it was bound to happen," Hermione muttered quietly. George chuckled and shook his head. He walked away and right before he got to the door, he turned.

"Who knew little Miss Perfect would be so wild," he said smirking.

Hermione blanched and shouted "GEORGE!"

George chuckled and turned to leave the room. Right as he was about to walk out, he turned back again.

"What?" Hermione said half-angrily, half-worriedly, not wanting what other possibly embarrassing thing was to come out of his mouth.

He grinned lazily and leaned against the doorway, totally unconcerned that he was doing so completely nude. "By the way, you need to tell me at breakfast how you got that scar."

Hermione looked at him, her head cocking to the side like a confused puppy. "What scar?"

His grin widened. "The one right here," he said pointing to a spot very low on his hip. Hermione looked where he was pointing and blushed scarlet.

"GEORGE!" she yelled, mortified that she had fallen for the trick. He chuckled and winked at her seductively before leaving the room, leaving behind a very embarrassed Hermione.


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note: **Thanks for all the reads, reviews, follows and favorites! Still not Rowling.

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Hermione sat at the kitchen table, clutching her pounding head. She heard the water from the shower stop. A few minutes later, she heard footsteps approaching her, but she made no move to see why George was there. She thought the motion might make her sick.

"Hermione?"

She turned her head slowly and squinted at the man in front of her, who was again clad in nothing but a towel.

"George, is this really the time? My head feels like they're a bludger inside trying to fight its way out."

George chuckled and came up behind her, rubbing her neck and shoulders.

"Okay, you can stay," Hermione mumbled as she closed her eyes. She heard George laugh softly, then his breath was suddenly on her ear.

"The green vial in the bathroom cabinet is a hangover potion. Take one gulp and take a hot shower. You'll feel a lot better." She smiled gratefully, but whimpered slightly as he removed his hands from her shoulders.

"Don't worry," George said, smiling. "I'll continue when you're out of the shower. Merlin knows you need to relax." She smiled and shoved him as she walked past, hearing an "Oof!" as she headed to the bathroom. She flicked on the bathroom lights without thinking and immediately, her eyes felt like they were on fire. "Aaaahhh!" she yelled, shielding her eyes.

"You okay?" she heard from the kitchen.

"Yeah," she yelled back, regretting doing so as the noise had made her head throb worse than ever. With a flick of her wand, she submerged the room into darkness as she fumbled around to find the potion. She found it, sat down on the cold bathroom floor, head resting against the wall, and took a generous gulp. In a matter of seconds, her headache was lessening and after a minute, she was feeling back to normal. 'Thank you, Fred and George,' she mumbled to herself. She then proceeded to turn the lights back on and step into a steamy shower. As she shampooed her hair, she thought of last night and of George.

'Did I actually say those things to him while I was drunk? That's so embarrassing. I mean, they were true, but still quite embarrassing.'

'Does he really think I'm beautiful?'

'And last night…'

'HERMIONE! Do not get yourself all hot and bothered. Not appropriate timing.'

'And this morning, he tried to kiss me. Does he not care about morning breath? Did he not care I was naked? Well, that was probably a plus for him.'

'This morning he acted like we've been together forever. Well, I mean we have been together, but not _together_, as in romantically. Does this mean he really fancies me?'

'Oh, that's stupid. He obviously does. I mean look at the dates, and how we've kissed, and last night…'

'That's not the point. He obviously cares about me, but what's more pressing is how I am feeling about him. How do I feel about George?'

'I mean he's absolutely hilarious, kind, sweet, and handsome to boot. Especially just now, with the towel…'

'HERMIONE! Snap out of it! What do I think about this?'

'Well, I… I think I fancy him. Quite a bit actually.'

'But what am I going to do now? I mean, we did seem to skip a few steps last night. Will that make things awkward? Will he not want to be with me after what happened?'

'Wait, when did I switch to _being with me_?'

'I guess that's what I want. No, no, I do want that. I suppose I have for a while.'

'So what should I do? Should I tell him how I feel? Will that sound too needy? Will he think I'm completely ridiculous?'

'No, I am going to tell him. If he doesn't like it, he can go marry someone else.'

'Figuratively speaking…'

As she turned off the faucet and dried herself off, she made her decision. She was going to tell George up front what she felt and if he didn't like it, well… he better like it.

She dried herself and padded quietly down to her room, where she pulled on a t-shirt and some yoga pants. After having dried her hair and made sure it curled rather than frizzed out, she walked out to find George. She found him sprawled across the couch, apparently reading the Daily Prophet. As she walked closer, she realized he was reading the sections, the removing the pages and turning them into paper airplanes, which he then charmed to fly about the room. She ducked as one tried to dive-bomb her head and walked up to him. "George?" she asked hesitantly.

He laid down the paper and smiled up at her. "Pleased to meet you."

"Funny," she replied wryly. He grinned up at her, then pushed himself up into a sitting position, looking at her expectantly. Hermione looked at him and took a deep breath, steeling herself.

"Is something wrong?" George asked worriedly.

"Ifancyyou," Hermione blurted out.

"Gesundheit?" George said, confused.

Hermione took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Maybe this would be easier if she couldn't see him. "I fancy you. A lot. And I don't know if last night meant something to you, but if it didn't, I'd like to know so I don't go wasting my time falling for you. I know that you're always nice to me and you've kissed me a number of times and you massaged my neck and you're always sweet but I don't know what you think and I just want to know because it will hurt too much when I fall for you and you don't want me and I don't want this to be something that passes as though nothing happened because something did happen and I just think that th-"

Hermione was stopped mid-word as George grabbed her upper arms and pulled her to him, kissing her firmly on the mouth. Hermione's knees went a bit weak, but she pulled away after a few seconds, looking at George with a little frown on her face.

"So does this mean that-"

"Shut up," George said matter-of-factly, then captured her lips again. Hermione got lost in the kiss, and after what felt like an eternity and no time at all, they broke apart. George rested his forehead on hers and chuckled. "What it takes to shut you up."

Hermione looked scandalized, but George laughed and pulled her to his chest in a tight hug. "Of course I fancy you, but you're too busy speaking in rambling run-on sentences to notice."

Hermione blushed embarrassedly. "Sorry," she mumbled into his chest.

"No need to apologize. But we do have a problem. You realize we are going to turn into another one of those mushy romantic newlywed type of couples?"

Hermione looked up at him, seeing the mirth in his eyes. "Ugh! Disgusting! I hate those people!" she said, a hint of laughter shining through the disgust that filled her voice.

"Me too!" said George with bravado. "We should never turn into them."

"Agreed."

"You realize what they would do in such a situation?"

"And what's that?" asked Hermione quizzically.

"This!" And without warning, he scooped Hermione up bridal style and began to carry her to her room.

"George!"

He laughed and set her down on the bed lightly. He walked away and suddenly ran at her, jumping into the air and belly-flopping onto the bed next to her. Hermione shrieked and tried to escape, but he pulled her back down to the bed by her waist. Laughing, Hermione grabbed her pillow and began smacking George with it.

"THIS MEANS WAR!" George yelled delightedly as he grabbed her other pillow. Their pillow war lasted a good ten minutes and involved much running around Hermione's room. Exhausted, they flopped down on the bed, lying next to each other as feathers drifted down slowly around them. George grabbed her hand, which had been lying next to his, and entwined his fingers with hers. She turned her head, smiling, to see George watching her quietly with a small smile on his face.

"What?"

He smiled at her and tucked a stray curl behind her ear with his free hand. "You're just wonderful."

She blushed and turned, burying her face into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, and they lay there, happily ensconced in each other's arms. They didn't know how long they stayed like that, but soon they had drifted off to sleep, their chests rising and falling in time.


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note: ** Thanks for reading! Still not Rowling.

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Somewhere in the house, a clock chimed four times. Downstairs, shrieks and shouts were coming from the children that explored the shop, accompanied by the occasional sounds of explosions. Yelling was heard from the street below, vendors trying to collect customers and sell their wares. Birds chirped their song to the wind from their perch on a window's shutters. These noises did not disturb the inhabitants of the flat. This couple slept on in peace through the din of Diagon Alley. What did wake them was a sudden loud noise, shattering the silence that blanketed the bedroom.

George sneezed.

Hermione screamed and shot backwards, whipping out her wand, not knowing what had made the sound of an explosion so close to her ear. George was immediately woken up by his sneeze, but promptly fell off the bed in terror, not understanding why someone was screaming right next to him.

Hermione stopped screaming and looked around, seeing a red-nosed George on a heap on the ground at the foot of her bed, desperately trying to find his wand to defend himself. George looked up and saw Hermione, standing in an attack position at the head of the bed, her feet lost in the depths of her fluffy pillows. The locked terrified eyes, and Hermione was the one to speak first.

"What was that explosion?"

George rubbed his nose. "I don-, I don-, I d- ACHOO!" He sneezed, the power of the sneeze so strong he was knocked backwards. Hermione stared at him, then suddenly started to laugh.

"What?" George asked, confused.

"You sneezed," Hermione gasped, clutching her stomach from laughing so hard.

"Why is that funny?"

Hermione sunk to her knees on the bed, tearing up at the ridiculousness and hilarity of the situation.

"WHAT? WHAT IS SO FUNNY?"

"That-that's what woke us up! You sn-sneezed! That was the b-blast!" Hermione was gasping for breath now, clutching her sides from laughing so hard.

"Oh," George said, a dumbfounded look on his face. "I-, I was the blast?" He looked at Hermione, tears dripping down her red face as she clutched her stomach with one hand and supported herself with the other.

He smiled.

He chuckled.

He started to laugh.

Suddenly, he was howling with laughter; Hermione's mirth was simply infectious. Soon they were shaking with silent laughter, gasping for air. After a while, they calmed down enough to look at each other without laughing. As they lay down, George on the floor and Hermione on the bed, they caught their breaths, occasionally letting out a chuckle.

"What a way to wake up," Hermione said. George laughed.

"I've always said I was a blast to be around." The both lost it again, more at the ridiculousness of the comment than its actual humor.

Hermione looked at the clock on her bedside table. "Uh, George?"

"Hmm?"

"What day is it?"

"Sunday. Why?"

"It's half past four. We have to be at your mom's house in half an hour."

"Shite!" George jumped up. "I'mgoingtogotakeashower!" He said in a rush and ran out of the room. The bathroom door slammed closed a second later. Hermione looked around, still laying on the bed.

"But you already…whatever," she sighed as he rushed out of the room. 'Well, at least I already showered,' she thought to herself. She got off the bed. With a few flicks of her wand, her bed set to making itself, the feathers that littered the room zoomed back into their pillows, which flew back to the head of the bed.

Smiling to herself as she watched her furniture shift back into its normal spots, she headed to her closet to pick out an outfit. She pulled on a light sweater and a simple skirt, and was just pulling her hair back into a messy bun when George rushed in, a toothbrush hanging from his foaming mouth, trying to button his shirt as he was putting on his shoe. He looked at Hermione with an anxious look, which turned into a look of annoyance as he saw she was already ready. She sighed and pushed George back into the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth. After he had finished and ceased looking like a rabies victim, she turned him around and re-buttoned his shirt, forced to redo most of it as he had buttoned it completely lopsidedly. Meanwhile, he finished pulling on his shoes and buckled his belt. She finished and smiled to herself, amused that the grown man in front of her was still terrified of his mother's wrath. George looked into the mirror and saw he was ready, mostly due to Hermione's help. He caught her hand as she was about to leave the room, turned her around and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

"Thanks, 'Mione."

"You're welcome, George," she said, smiling as she lead the way out of the bathroom.

He followed her to the fire, and entered it after she had zoomed away, the words "The Burrow" still hanging in the air. In a few seconds, he stepped unsteadily out of the fire and his ears were assaulted by noise. Mrs. Weasley could be heard yelling at Ron about eating before dinner, Bill was hollering at Charlie about having cheated at Quidditch, and Ginny was shouting at Hermione, trying to be heard over the din. The only people who were quiet were Harry and Mr. Weasley, who were talking no doubt about some random muggle invention, and Luna, who was seemingly in her own world, as usual. George made his way over to Luna, to whom he had always nursed a soft spot. She, like Fred and himself, never worried about what people thought of her, but happily went on, doing her own thing. He sat down next to Luna on the couch.

"Hello George," she said, directing her dreamy smile at him.

"Hey Luna. How are things with you?"

"Oh, I'm just fine. Ron's been very nice lately, but he still doesn't believe me about the krumple-horned snorkak," she said, sounding a bit put out at the last part. It hurt her that even though they were close now, he still didn't believe her about some things about which she felt strongly.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll convince him. I believe you," George said with a smile, giving Luna a one-armed hug.

"That's quite nice of you, George. Thank you."

"Hands off, George," Ron said with a bit of a grin as he walked in, his hand still red from where Mrs. Weasley had smacked it with a wooden spoon.

George smiled back at his little brother. "Still haven't learned how to keep your hands out of the pots?"

Ron reflexively covered his right hand, rubbing it slightly. George chuckled and got up.

"I'll see you in a bit, Luna. I'm off to find where 'Mione disappeared to." He walked out, not seeing Luna's usually dreamy face take on a knowing smile. Her usually glassy, protuberant eyes had a mischievous glint in them as she watched George's retreating back. It was only there for a flash, as Ron sat down next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She looked over at him, smiling, any trace of un-Luna-like behavior gone.

…

Ginny watched her brother approach over her best friend's shoulder. She opened her arms for the crushing hug that was soon to follow, and was not disappointed. As she was hoisted into the air, she laughed and pushed at George, who set her down, grinning.

"So, Gin, how are things? Is that an itty-bitty bump I see there?" She pretended to look offended and push him.

"Are you insinuating I look fat?"

Hermione and George laughed. "Ginny, you're not fat and you could have triplets and still look slender. No need to worry."

Ginny laughed, but only to cover her watching her brother, who had laughed at Hermione's joke and had just wrapped his arm around Hermione's waist, as though he had been doing so forever. Ginny decided to keep close to Hermione tonight, intrigued by their sudden comfort with each other.

"BOYS!" was suddenly heard from the kitchen. All the Weasley boys, Harry included, froze, looking scared.

"Yes, dear?" Mr. Weasley asked tentatively.

"I need the garden deknomed before dinner!" Mrs. Weasley shouted from the kitchen. The men of the house breathed a sigh of relief, then headed out to the garden. Before he left, George have Hermione's waist a quick squeeze and kissed her swiftly on the cheek before leaving. Hermione smiled after him, then turned back to Ginny, who was staring at her intently, suspicion written all over her face.

"What?" Hermione asked innocently.

"What's going on? You and George are acting differently. You're like a real couple."

"And that's a bad thing? We are married."

"Yes, by law. But this is different. What, did you fall in love with him?"

Hermione blushed and looked around, desperate for an escape. "Luna!" she practically shouted, rushing away from Ginny. Ginny would not waver though.

"You did! You did! You're so in love with him!"

"Shhhh!" Hermione hissed at Ginny. "Okay, maybe I am, but you don't need to alert the high heavens about it!"

Right as Hermione was reaching Luna to try and distract Ginny, the sound of thunder was heard, followed by the six men rushing in right as "DINNER!" was called from the kitchen. Hermione made sure she and George were sitting far away from Ginny, desperately not wanting the topic of her and George's relationship to come up. She started to breathe easy as they made it through dinner without anything disastrous happening besides Ginny's hawk-like stares, but as dessert came up, Luna spoke up.

"Did you have fun last night?" she asked, looking unblinkingly at Hermione and George. Everyone froze and looked at Luna.

"What?" George asked quickly.

"Did you have fun last night? You two seemed to be having a nice time at the pub."

Hermione, who had just taken a sip of water, choked and spluttered, turning redder by the second. Charlie, who was on her other side, patted her on the back, and pulled out his wand. In a second, her airways were clear, and she was gasping for air while George sat, deer-in-the-headlights, staring at Luna. The room was silent as everyone's eyes were on the red-faced couple and the calm blonde girl.

"What happened last night?"

Everyone looked over at the speaker, who had broken the stunned silence with his angry question. Ron was sitting next to Luna, staring at George, looking ready to kill.

"Ron," Harry whispered, trying to avoid any potential explosion.

Ron simply pushed Harry's hand off his shoulder. "What happened."

Everyone's eyes went to George and Hermione, who was still coughing a bit.

"We went to celebrate her first full week working at WWW. We had dinner and one drink each, then walked home in a dignified manner, discussing politics and economics. We walked up to out flat and bid each other goodnight, going into our separate rooms." Hermione was quite impressed that George had been able to say all this with a straight face and a matter-of-fact tone. She did her best to keep a straight face at the ridiculousness of this lie and look as though this was true.

There was silence, and suddenly two voices simultaneously broke the silence.

"BULLSHIT."

Everyone's heads whipped around to look at Ginny and Ron, both staring at Hermione. Ron looked about ready to kill.

"RONALD AND GINEVRA WEASLEY!"

Hermione and George were temporarily forgotten as Mrs. Weasley reprimanded her youngest son and daughter. Hermione looked over at Luna, who was holding Ron's hand, seemingly trying to calm him. When her eyes slid from Mrs. Weasley's face to Hermione's, an evil grin appeared on her face, her eyes dancing with merriment. Hermione looked at her incredulously, hardly believing Luna was making that expression, let alone planned this whole thing.

"Why?" Hermione whispered.

"You love each other. Now everyone knows and it won't be awkward," Luna said, a smile playing on her lips.

"Were you there?"

Luna giggled. "I was meeting Neville to see how he was doing. He wanted to say hello, but I told him not to intrude, because the aura of the thispwits would be ruined."

"And they are…?"

"The creatures that inspire love. People attribute it to Cupid, but it's always the thispwits."

"Ah." Hermione had no idea what to say. "Umm, thanks?"

Luna beamed. "You're very welcome!"

Hermione looked over at George, noticing he had been eavesdropping on her and Luna's whispered conversation. He smiled at her and winked. She bumped her shoulder into him in a friendly manner. He leaned over and his breath stirred the tendrils of hair that had escaped her bun, tickling her face.

"Wanna get out of here?" She smiled at him and nodded, whispering back,

"Only if we get ice cream."

"Deal," George said with a grin. Pulling her up with him, they bid a hasty goodbye, noticing Ginny and Ron were attempting to get up from their seats, wanting to either yell at or question them. As they walked quickly out the door, they heard Mrs. Weasley yell,

"RONALD BILLIUS WEASLEY, YOU SIT DOWN. I AM NOT DONE WITH YOU."

Hermione laughed as George pulled her to the apparition spot. He leaned down on the pretense of kissing her. She quickly slipped out of his grip, laughing and spun on the spot, George catching on to her arm just in time.


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note: **Still stealing characters from Rowling :)

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Several weeks had passed since that fateful night at the Burrow, and everyone was finally getting used to the changing relationship in all the couples. Ginny was pregnant and starting to snap at everyone, while Harry followed her around as if he was trying to traverse through a minefield. Ron and Luna were finally acting like a true couple, and when Hermione asked about the change at a Sunday dinner, Ginny just giggled.

"Ron tried to be nice and tell her he believes all her creatures, like the crumple-horned snorkak. She had gotten so excited she kissed him, and it sort of went from there," Ginny trailed off, grinning.

Hermione looked over at the big oak tree that was set in the middle of the Burrow's expansive yard, where Luna sat next to Ron, her legs draped over his, her head on his shoulder, while he stroked her hair.

"Merlin, they're just precious. Honestly, he'd probably say he believes in anything as long as they stay like that."

She smiled and looked over at them, happy everything seemed to be turning out for the best. She turned her head as the kitchen door opened with such force that it hit the opposite wall. George, Bill, Harry, and Charlie, who was visiting, all trudged out, brooms in hand and talking loudly and excitedly. George and Harry both saw their wives and headed over to talk. Harry swept up Ginny into his arms and spun her around, kissing her lightly. Ginny giggled and pushed Harry, trying to be upset, but failing. Hermione smiled as she looked on, when suddenly she felt an arm wrap around her waist and spin her around.

"AAH!" Hermione said out of shock, finally seeing a grinning George looking down at her. "Oh, hi."

"That's all I get? Hi? Am I not loved?" George dropped his arm from around her waist and stared at her, trying to look as hurt as possible. Hermione grinned and crossed her arms.

"Nope," she said flatly, trying not to smile.

George clutched his heart and staggered around, bumping into Charlie and flinging himself onto his older brother, crying, 'Hermione Jean Granger! You wound me! My heart has been ripped out!"

Charlie was torn between laughing and trying to throw off his brother, finally managing and forcing George to drop onto the floor, where he crumpled dramatically.

"I'm finished! Life is over!" George cried from the floor as everyone looked on, laughing.

"Oi! Get up. We need to get this game started!" Bill yelled as he nudged George's side with his foot. George immediately stopped shouting and moaning and jumped up happily.

"Why didn't you say so?" Hermione laughed as George's attitude did an immediate 180˚.

"Oi! Loverboy!," George shouted to Ron. "Get off your arse and play keeper for us. Sorry Luna, but we'll make sure to give him back!"

"I can't promise he'll be in one piece though!" shouted Charlie, who had already mounted his broom.

Everyone laughed, and Hermione and Ginny went to sit with Luna to watch the game. Ginny sat grumbling curses in her breath as she had been forbidden to play, no matter how much she begged. Hermione started to doze off in the shade of the tree when suddenly a wave of nausea crashed over her. She stood up quickly, and her head spun.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Luna asked.

"I-, uh, yeah," Hermione responded, sitting back down as the nausea was suddenly gone as quickly as it had come. Hermione was fine for the rest of the day, but when she and George arrived back home, she began feeling ill again, and barricaded herself in the bathroom. George was worried, and tried to do everything to help her, but they could not figure out what was wrong.

A few more weeks passed in much the same fashion, with Hermione being fine and then suddenly being randomly queasy. George had even gone to Mrs. Weasley in search of any stomach medicine she thought might help. Nothing seemed to be helping, and to make it worse, Hermione had started breaking down for no apparent reason. Just two days earlier, George had tried to sit on the couch, but found it covered with advertisement sketches of Hermione's for the new trick wand product. He had placed them neatly in a pile and moved them onto the coffee table. He stretched out onto the couch, reading yet another charm book. George's eyes were had just begun to droop when he heard the door slam. He woke up, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. He smiled at Hermione, who looked at him stonily.

"What's wrong, Mione?"

"You moved my sketches," she said in a quiet and dangerous voice.

"I didn't know that was a problem. I'm sorry. I did put them in order of how they were on the couch." He smiled at her, but the smile faltered and died when he saw Hermione's face turning red and tears starting to pour down her cheeks. "Mione, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

"No I'm not!" she yelled through the cracking of her voice from crying. "You moved my sketches! I was in the middle of something! You can't just move them!"

George was bewildered. "I, uh, okay. I won't from now on. I'm sorry, babe!" Hermione gave him a furious glare and stormed into her, actually _their_ room, slamming the door behind her. George stared at the door, completely lost. He was even more confused when Hermione came out an hour later, smiling and apologizing for yelling. Odd flashes of anger and tears spattered the next few weeks, ranging from spilled potion in the store to her stubbing her toe to a prank making too much noise. George was at a complete loss as to what was going on with his normally calm and collected wife, and tried to make up for it by helping her out as much as possible, and staying out of her way when she got into one of her moods.

One day, roughly about two months from the day that Hermione and George came clean about their feelings and became a real couple, George was in his room, in which he still kept all his clothes and belongings, stretched out on the bed, thinking. Hermione had yet again shut herself in their bedroom, this time bursting into tears when her favorite ice cream was missing from the freezer. George had even rushed to get her the ice cream, but it had been too late – she had already barricaded herself in and sobbing could be heard from the room. He sighed. He wished he knew what was going on with her and how he could help. At first, he had wondered if it had been about her parents, but after seeing her get upset about the most random things, he decided against mentioning them, thinking that would probably make everything worse.

'Ugh. What the hell am I going to do?' he thought to himself. As it was prone to doing, the Fred-like voice in his head responded promptly.

'Well, hiding from your wife in your dark bedroom is probably not a good way to start fixing anything.'

'What am I supposed to do? I try to talk to her and cheer her up and it always goes wrong. Something always makes her start crying or become irrationally angry at me!'

'Why don't you try and make her feel better in a way that, dare I say it, doesn't involve a prank? I hate to admit it, but maybe flashes and bangs aren't the right tack here.'

'So what should I do? Make her a house out of her favorite ice cream? Buy her every book in the world? How the bloody hell am I supposed to know what will fix this?'

'I dunno, mate. What's something she loves but doesn't have often?'

'Sanity,' George sighed. 'Okay, okay, that was harsh. Uhhh…I don't know. She has books, she has food, she has friends… Oh, she always had that stupid cat with her at school.'

'The one that looked as though it tried to pick a fight with a cast iron pan and lost miserably?'

'Yeah. Maybe I should get her another cat. Something to distract her and make her happy…'

'Well, you could distract her, if you know what I mean," the voice said slyly, almost chuckling.

'Oh shut it.'

George got up, looked about the room, and silently made his decision.


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note: **Still not Rowling.

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George walked out of his room and to Hermione's door. He raised his hand to knock, but hesitated. He listened intently, pressing his only remaining ear to the door. He didn't hear any crying, so he knocked softly three times. "Hermione?" he called softly. "Are you okay?" He heard a sniffle, then a small voice replied, "Yeah."

"Can I come in?" George asked hesitantly.

"Yeah," the quiet voice again replied. He slowly turned the doorknob and opened the door quietly, quickly surveying the room. The pillows were scattered about the room and some stray feathers were drifting gently to the ground, hinting at the bout of anger that had recently subsided. The quilt on the bed was wrinkled in such a way that it looked like Hermione had buried her face in it. Tear tracks were dried onto Hermione's face, her eyes red from crying, her hair untamed and bushy. George walked over to Hermione, who was sitting at the foot of the bed, and sat down next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

"Hey," George said softly. "You okay?" Hermione made no motion to reply, but simply continued staring at the ground.

"I was thinking we should do something that will make you happy."

"No pranks," Hermione mumbled.

"No, no pranks. I was thinking we should get another cat. I know you miss Crookshanks and I figured having something cuddly and happy around would be nice. Well, besides me, of course." He smiled cheekily at her, but it somewhat faltered when he saw she was still not smiling.

She was silent for almost a minute, then said quietly, "It will have to be a kid-friendly cat."

"Oh certainly," replied George, thankful she was not only talking, but seemingly agreeing with his idea. "But we don't have to worry about that for a while, right?" He smiled at her. She did not smile back, but instead looked like she was about to burst into tears.

"Right?" he asked, nervously. She still did not reply. "Hermione?"

She burst into tears and, completely lost, he just hugged her to him, trying to fix whatever was wrong. "Babe, what's wrong? Did I say something wrong?" She cried harder, her body wracked with sobs. George was really getting worried now. "Hermione? What's wrong?" he asked her, holding her by both shoulders and trying to look her in the eyes. She refused to make eye contact with him and mumbled something incoherent. "What?" George asked.

"I'm pregnant," she whispered, her chest heaving, trying to catch her breath.

George froze. There was a rushing sound in his ears, as if there was a crashing waterfall in between his eyes or a giant wind blowing through his head, wiping away every coherent thought.

"What?" he asked weakly. He looked at Hermione and saw his scared expression mirrored in her face.

They were engulfed by silence, a silence so expansive and heavy, George felt he was being crushed under the weight of it. George looked at Hermione, the girl who used to run after him in school, berating him for every misdeed, the girl who he had been ordered by law to marry, the girl who had become his wife, the girl for whom he had been slowly falling for several months. He looked at her and smiled. He was shocked, however, to see quite the opposite expression on her face. She had a hard, angry look on her face, anger blazing in her brown eyes, making them look almost like fire.

"This is your fault," she said in a quiet, dangerous voice.

"What?" said George, completely lost.

"This is your fault," she repeated.

"What is?"

"You took advantage of me."

"Excuse me?" George stood, all happy and loving feelings quickly draining from him, slowly being replaced with anger at the unfairness of her accusation.

"You heard me. You took advantage of me. I was drunk," she said, her voice gaining in volume and anger.

"Hi there Pot. Nice to meet you. I'm Kettle," said George sarcastically, walking towards her with his hand outstretched.

Hermione simply glared at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You were just as drunk as me. You were even the one that instigated it. You led me to your room and took off my shirt, for Merlin's sake!"

"I DID NOT!"

"YES, YOU BLOODY WELL DID! THIS IS NOT MY FAULT ALONE! YES, I AM PARTLY AT FAULT, BUT YOU ARE JUST AS GUILTY, LITTLE MISS PERFECT!"

They were standing feet from each other, both red in the face and screaming at each other at the top of their lungs.

"HOW DARE YOU!"

"HOW DARE _YOU_! TURNING THIS ON ME WHEN WE ARE EQUALLY GUILTY!"

"GET OUT!" Hermione screamed, pointing at the door.

George laughed derisively. "Oh good, kick me out of my own house. That'll work."

Quick as a wink, Hermione had her wand drawn and jabbing George in the throat. "Get out," she whispered, and a few sparks flew from the wand, burning him. George threw her a dirty look and turned on his heel, storming from the room and slamming the door so hard one of the hinges came undone from the wall.


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note: **I loved how everyone was saying how bad they felt for George and how awful Hermione was! The fact that I could make you guys dislike Hermione (who is one of the best characters EVER) makes me super proud! Don't worry, everything will get better! Still not Rowling!

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The rest of the week was tense, to say the least, in the Granger-Weasley household. Not a word was spoken. Schedules even changed so they would avoid each other. Anger and hurt clung to the very air, seeping under the doors and in the cracks in the windows, growing so heavy, it was almost like a third person in the house. It was as if a dementor had taken up residence, forcing every thought to be tinged black, wiping any possible trace of a grin off faces in the house.

…

The first few days of Hermione's relative absence were a non-issue for George. He was furious and hurt that Hermione would be so cruel. He was fine with her avoiding him – he didn't want to talk to her either! Although her huffily leaving the room, glaring all the while as she left any room he entered, was a bit annoying, he could have cared less. He thought of staying at the Burrow and possibly enjoying a few glare-free days, but then he would have to explain why he was there and why Hermione wasn't. Just thinking about Mrs. Weasley's reaction was giving him a headache. That was definitely not a viable option. If that was how she wanted to be, let her. She was the one being the bitch.

…

George was simply infuriating Hermione. Even in silence, she couldn't avoid him. He somehow always entered a room she had just gotten comfortable in. She would not let him do this to her. This was all his fault and she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction or the courtesy of remaining in the same room with him. He was a complete arse and she wasn't going to deal with it. She thought of going to stay with her parents to escape him, but then, like a slap in the face, she remembered where her parents were. That just made everything worse. She was pregnant and she couldn't even share it with her parents. She couldn't ask her mom for help. Everything was just getting more and more awful. She thought of staying at the Burrow and having a few George-free days, but then she would have to explain why she was there and why George wasn't. Just thinking about Mrs. Weasley's reaction was giving her a headache. That was definitely not a viable option. Whatever. If he wanted to leave, he could. He was the one who was the problem, not her.

…

After a few days and missing the Weasley family dinner, mostly because neither one wanted to break the silence and ask if they should go, the aura of the house had begun to change.

…

'This was ridiculous. She just needs to see that it happened in the spur of the moment and it was not premeditated. We were drunk for Merlin's sake! How could it have been? It was just a mistake. I mean we're not even ready to be parents.'

Pictures suddenly flew through George's mind, like a movie in fast-forward. Him teaching a little red-headed boy how to fly for the first time. Being hugged by a little girl with brown, curly hair. Helping a little red-headed boy and girl with their homework at the kitchen table, while Hermione watched, a smiling brunette baby in her arms.

George's heart hurt as he pictured these scenes. He wanted that. No, he ached for that. Fred had always made fun of him when they were younger, saying he was meant to be a girl because every time a cute baby or toddler was near, George got all doe-eyed and had to grit his teeth to stop himself exclaiming how cute they were. George knew deep down he was meant to be a father. He had always been the most protective of Ginny, her being the only girl and being the youngest. He had always felt it was his duty. Now he couldn't stop thinking of being a dad, and being protective of his own little girl.

He couldn't let this continue. He couldn't let Hermione continue on in angry silence. He wanted a family. He wanted a family with her. He wanted Hermione back.

…

Hermione had to admit it – she missed George. She missed his stupid jokes and his constant smile. She missed his blue eyes that sparkled when he teased her. She missed talking to him about, well, about everything. She missed him. And she was getting tired of being mad. She was never very good at staying mad for long, except at Ron. He had always been so infuriating that he made it easy to stay mad at him. But George wasn't like that. George was effervescent. He was like a ray of sunshine; he lit up any room he walked into.

'That must have been why everything seemed so much harder after the war,' Hermione thought. 'George was always the one to cheer everyone up, and with him in such a deep depression, it made everything seem just that much worse. That must have been why Mrs. Weasley was so excited when he started getting back to his old self – everyone needed a bit of that happiness he radiates.'

Hermione thought about what had happened and all she had said to him. Her stomach squirmed with guilt. She felt so bad for having said all those horrible things to him. Horrible, untrue things. As much as Hermione hated to admit it, George was completely right. It was both of them together, and looking back, she knew she had wanted it just as much as him. She just let these awful mood swings take over her and ruin what should have been a happy moment. She just wasn't ready to be a mom.

Suddenly, images zoomed before Hermione's eyes. Holding a smiling baby with curly red hair and blue eyes. Bathing a smiling little girl with curly brown hair who was giggling and splashing, making the toy boat in the water rock as if in a storm-tossed sea. A little red-headed boy running into her arms, beaming as he told her about his adventure of the day. Putting two little red-headed toddlers to bed, her head resting on George's chest as they watched their children smiling in their sleep.

Hermione was shocked as she felt tears dripping from her chin. She had not realized she had been crying. She realized that she had been lying to herself all along. She wanted it, more than ever because her own mom was not there. She wanted to be the one who could mend booboos and kiss it all better. She wanted to see her kids off at Platform 9 ¾, seeing their beaming faces as they stepped though the barrier at King's Cross for the first time. She wanted to be someone's mommy.

…

Hermione opened her bedroom door quietly and looked around. George was nowhere in sight. She tiptoed to his room, feeling her stomach squirm again for having kicked him out as she saw the rumpled bedcovers. He was not there and she did not hear running water from the bathroom, so she tiptoed towards the living room. She peeked around the door, not wanting to possibly upset George with her presence, and saw him pacing around the living room, running his fingers through his hair in an agitated manner. She could tell he was still not completely used to having short hair – his hands grasped to pull at hair that had been there for years and was only recently absent. She padded quietly into the room, waiting for him to turn and pace in the other direction, facing her. George got to the end of the room and turned around, but froze suddenly. Hermione saw the flash of shock in his wide, troubled eyes. No one spoke for a moment.

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, although it carried like a shout in the painfully silent sitting room.

George looked at her for a second, wary, then said quietly, "Me too." He walked towards her slowly, but stayed out of arm's reach, which made Hermione's stomach clench as she realized he did so out of fear that she might attack again. She had made her own husband somewhat afraid of her, and she felt disgusted with herself. She walked a step closer, and was thankful he did not step back.

"George, I'm really sorry. I said some simply awful things that were all untrue and you didn't deserve it. It was something we both did when we were drunk and it's really no one's fault." She looked at him imploringly, desperate to hear she was forgiven and be in his embrace. She had messed up – she knew that know – but all she wanted was to have everything fixed again.

…

George watched her in silence, weighing the words he was desperate to say, trying to hold them in, in case it seemed to be bad timing. He watched her as she apologized and he saw the hurt in her eyes. He shouldn't have stood that far away, but he had done it without thinking, which probably made it that much worse. He saw her eyes brimming with tears, begging him to make everything better.

"Itwasn'tamistake," he blurted out. She looked at him, confused.

"What?"

He took a deep breath and started over. "Whatever happened, it wasn't a mistake. I can understand you being upset and being shocked, but I wouldn't take back what we did. I want a family, Hermione. And I want a family with the woman I love. If you aren't ready, or if you're still upset with me I can understand, but I want to fix this. With you." He stopped, out of breath, and looked at her. Her eyes were filled with tears and a few were sliding down her cheeks.

"Oh Hermione, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"You love me?" she asked.

"I just- wait, what?"

"You said you loved me."

"I did…," said George, not sure where this was going.

"You love me?" she asked again.

"Is…that…bad?" George asked hesitantly, not sure if this was a trick question or not.

Hermione suddenly let out a watery chuckle. "No, it's just, you've never said so before."

"Oh. Well, we were probably too busy not talking for me to tell you," George replied, a little grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. Hermione chuckled again, and looked up at him, smiling.

"I love you too, George." They smiled at each other, then suddenly, Hermione was in George's arms and he was spinning her around. When they finally stopped spinning, he looked down at the smiling girl in his arms.

"We've made right fools of ourselves, haven't we?"

She grinned. "Yes, and it's all my fault. I'm sorry."

"Shhh! No more of whose fault was what." Suddenly, his voice became crisp and business-like, a perfect imitation of Percy. "So, Mrs. Granger-Weasley, are you prepared to raise a child with that fool you call a husband?"

She grinned at him before replying in an equally snooty voice. "I am quite prepared, thank you. And it's Mrs. Weasley, if you please."

They smiled at each other as if nothing else was important besides the person in their arms. They sat down together on the couch, and Hermione rested her head on George's chest. They remained like that for a few minutes before Hermione's head snapped back and she stared at George with terrified eyes.

"What?" George asked worriedly.

"We have to tell the family," she said. George looked at her questioningly for a moment, then it hit him and he groaned.

"Oh Merlin. We have to tell Mum."


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note: **I was so excited by all of the response I got for the last chapter. I loved how everyone was more excited about them telling Mrs. Weasley than the actual baby! I hope I don't disappoint! Still not Rowling.

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Hermione and George were nervous about the Weasley dinner that was to occur the next day, more specifically how each person would take it. They were working down at the shop every day and trying to keep their minds occupied, but when the movement and noise stopped, their fears returned. Hermione was lying on her side, staring at the opposite wall, so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't notice that George's breathing was not the slow and easy breaths that sounded when he was asleep. George was lying in bed staring up at the ceiling, thinking about the impending drama that was almost guaranteed to occur the next day. He heard Hermione's short, shallow breaths next to him and rolled over to face her back.

"Hey Mione?"

"Hmm?"

"You alright?"

Hermione turned around to face him, their faces inches apart. George looked into her worried eyes, still visible due to the moonlight pouring in the slats of the shutters. He looked at her and saw the worry on her face that he was sure was present on his as well.

"I just, I just…" Hermione struggled for words, looking at George imploringly.

"I know. Me too." George pulled her close and held her to his chest, wishing he could remove her worry just by a kind of skin-to-skin osmosis. He rolled onto his back and she rested her head on his chest, lying against him as he wrapped his arms around her waist. They lay like that for what seemed like hours until they both drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

…

One would think that a Sunday, with no chores or work to be done, would be a slow, lazy day. The thing about time, though, is that it has a nasty habit of speeding by when you desperately want it to slow down. Before Hermione and George knew it, it was 4 o'clock and it was time to get ready for dinner. When 5 o'clock hit, George and Hermione looked at each other nervously.

"Ready?" asked George as he took her hand.

"No. Let's go," replied Hermione, and with a quick spin, they were gone.

…

They landed at the top of the hill where Hermione had caught up to George and thanked him that fateful night months ago. As they regained their balance, the symbolism was not lost on them. Last time, they had been ordered to marry. Last time, they had both been in heavy depressions. This time, they were almost completely different people. Now they were a couple in love going to tell of the upcoming addition to the family. How much had changed in just a few months was overwhelming.

Hermione looked up and saw George, his freckles standing out on his shockingly pale face. She knew he was remembering what life had been like last time, just as she had. She squeezed his hand reassuringly, and started walking forward, pulling him along. They better get this over with.

As they reached the Burrow, they saw everyone setting the table and helping Molly put food on the table outside. They said their hellos and sat down, avoiding questions about why they had missed the last dinner. Dinner began and conversation was light and friendly, but conversation soon changed to Ginny's pregnancy. As she was about five months along, she was in a much better mood, although she was a bit clingier with Harry. They were talking about how she was feeling and what was going on, and suddenly Ginny turned to Hermione and asked casually, "So when is it your turn?"

The table went silent, even though Ginny had not spoken loudly.

"I…errr…well…" Hermione mumbled, unable to speak coherent words.

"Hermione's pregnant!" George blurted out.

"George!" Hermione shouted.

The table was silent, then several things happened at the same time.

Mrs. Weasley burst into tears; Ginny shouted "I KNEW IT!;" Ron roared "WHAT?;" and Harry, Mr. Weasley, Bill, Percy, Luna, and Fleur all beamed. Ron was the first to recover, and he stood up suddenly. "WHAT? You two, I just, WHAT?"

"Ron," said Luna in her dreamy voice, laying a hand on his forearm, gently beckoning him to sit down.

"I just, this is just… NO! YOU TWO? NO!"

"**RONALD BILLIUS WEASLEY!**"

Silence suddenly fell as though everyone had been struck dumb, staring at the woman who was standing up, facing Ron with a furious expression on her face.

But it wasn't Ginny or Hermione. It wasn't even Mrs. Weasley.

It was Luna.

The dreamy voice was gone and replaced with a voice so cold and unfamiliar that those listening felt a chill spread around the table.

"How DARE you! It is none of your business what goes on in their relationship. It might not have gotten through that thick head of yours, but everyone else here has clued in to the fact that, not only are Hermione and George married, but they are in love. That means that whatever happens in their relationship has nothing to do with you, so you should keep your big nose out of it. She is not your wife, Ronald. _I AM._ You told me you loved me and you obviously lied because you are certainly not over Hermione."

She turned to Hermione and said, her voice softening, almost back to its usual dreamy tone, "Hermione, please don't think this is at all your fault. I am so happy for you and George and I hope that maybe one day I can have as happy a family as you have already. I just love kids. They're usually much more perceptive when it comes to seeing creatures like the snorkak. Just make sure to look out for thurnops when you're creating the nursery. They watch over babies."

She turned to a very shocked Mrs. Weasley and said with a sad smile, "Thank you so much for preparing this lovely dinner, Molly, but I'm afraid I can't stay. I'm just not feeling up to celebrating and I don't want to ruin such a happy occasion."

"Oh, but dear…" Molly began.

"I really couldn't Molly, I'm terribly sorry." Her voice cracked, and she turned away with that same sad smile, heading a small ways away, and with a _crack!_, she vanished.

Everyone turned in silence to stare at a very pale Ron, who was still standing, staring at the spot where she had vanished, and looking as though he had been petrified.

"I hope you learned your lesson, Ronald," said Mrs. Weasley sternly, though the effect was somewhat dampened by the tears dripping off her cheeks. "You better go find her and apologize or you'll lose her, if you haven't already."

Ron's eyes widened and he started off, but then stopped. He turned and walked back to face Hermione and George. "I'm sorry," he said in a voice filled with regret and sadness. "Congratulations." He stuck out his hand to George, much to everyone's surprise. George regarded him for a second, then grasped his brother's hand with a smile. Mrs. Weasley promptly burst into tears again. Ron gave a small smile to the two of them, then walked a few steps and disapperated.

A sarcastic voice broke the silence. "Well, that was eventful." Everyone turned to look at Ginny, who was looking at her mother. "Why didn't you cry like this when I told you I was pregnant?"

Mrs. Weasley smiled and wiped her eyes with her napkin. "From the day Harry saved you from that basilisk, I knew it was only a matter of time before you two were together." Everyone except Mr. Weasley looked shocked.

"Dad?" Ginny said, looking for confirmation.

Mr. Weasley smiled fondly at Ginny and Harry. "Your mother is right. Harry has always been like a son to us. It was only fitting."

Hermione looked at Harry, whose eyes were glassy with tears he was fighting to keep from falling. She knew how much Arthur saying that meant to Harry, as he had said on several occasions that the Weasleys were the family he never had. Harry buried his face in Ginny's long red hair to hide the two or three tears that were falling. Everyone politely ignored this, understanding how he felt. Bill and Fleur rose from the table.

"Well, we must be off. We have to get Victoire home for bed," Bill said, gesturing to the strawberry blonde-haired 18-month old snoozing on Fleur's shoulder. They went around the table saying their goodbyes and finally reached Hermione and George. Bill hugged both George, then Hermione, saying with a wink, "Make sure not to give us as many kids as Mum did. Mum doesn't need 42 grandchildren, as much as she might say she does."

Fleur handed Victoire off to Bill and hugged Hermione tightly. The two young women had become much closer as Fleur had calmed down and lost (most of) her pretentiousness. "Oh Ermyohknee, I am so 'appy for you two. I 'ope everysing goes vell for you. Let me know eef you need anysing, any 'elp vis ze pregnancy. I know 'ow deeficult eet can be."

"Thank you, Fleur," said Hermione with a smile. Fleur hugged George and then she accompanied her husband and daughter inside, where they would floo home. Percy followed, congratulating the couple and apologizing that he could not stay longer to talk, then apparated off to the Ministry.

Ginny ran up to Hermione and immediately shoved her.

"What was that f-" Hermione began to say, but Ginny shouted over her.

"I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! THAT DAY I SO KNEW IT! I AM SO HAPPY FOR YOU! HOW FAR ARE YOU ALONG? OH, OUR CHILDREN ARE GOING TO BE BEST FRIENDS! AND COUSINS! AND THEY'LL ALL GO TO HOGWARTS TOGETHER! SO WHEN ARE YOU DUE? HOW FAR ALONG ARE YOU? OH THIS IS SO EXCITING!"

Hermione looked exasperatedly over at Harry, who was watching his wife gabble on excitedly, completely oblivious to the fact that no one was listening any more. He smiled brightly at Hermione and pulled her into a bear hug. "Congratulations, Mione. I'm so happy for you."

"Thanks Harry," said Hermione, who was then dragged off by Ginny to discuss everything.

Harry turned to George and smiled at him. "Congrats, George. Don't tell Ron, but I think you two are great for each other. You really balance each other out."

George grinned at him. "Thanks, mate. And don't worry. I won't be telling Ickle Ronnikins any time soon." He held out his hand and Harry grasped it. George then pulled him into a one-armed hug. "You know, you're the first bloke I haven't wanted to murder for being with my sister."

Harry laughed. "A high compliment indeed." They laughed and walked into the house. They walked into the living room and took seats on the couch so as to watch the Weasley drama continuing to play out.

Ginny was still chattering on about their kids going to school together and Hermione was desperately trying to escape. Mr. Weasley, seeing this, came over to talk to her.

"Hermione, I just want to tell you that I am so happy for you. You've done so much for this family and we are so glad you are a part of it." He pulled her into a hug and whispered so George couldn't see. "Molly and I can't thank you enough for what you did for George. I don't know how, but you brought him back to life, and for that we are forever grateful." Hermione teared up as Mr. Weasley gave her an extra squeeze. She missed hugs from her father, and it was wonderful to know that, if she couldn't have her parents, at least the Weasleys would always be there for her.

Hermione had no sooner been let go than she was having the air squeezed out of her by an again-sobbing Mrs. Weasley. Hermione could only catch words here and there because she was crying so hard. All Hermione heard was "so happy," "thank you," "another daughter," "George," "grandchildren," and "I love you." That was enough for Hermione, who promptly started bawling. The drama of the day, plus the loss of her parents, plus finding another family that remembered her and loved her as their own, on top of pregnancy hormones turned Hermione into a waterfall, crying both out of happiness and sadness. The rest of the family looked on bemusedly as the two women held each other and cried onto each other's shoulders. When they finally came to a sniffling conclusion, George stood up and headed over.

"Mum, I think I need to take Hermione home now. And you should probably get to bed as well," he said as he extracted his puffy-eyed wife from his equally red-eyed mother's embrace.

"Oh, I'm sorry dear. So silly of me. I just, I'm just so happy for you two," replied Mrs. Weasley with a watery smile.

"I know, Mum, I know." George smiled at her and gave her a hug. "I love you, Mum. We'll see you next Sunday." He turned to Ginny and gave her a bear hug, all the while watching out for her growing belly. "You keep this one in line," he said with a grin, gesturing to Harry before again holding out his hand to shake. They shook hands, grinning, as Ginny replied, "I always do." They all laughed and George headed to his father while Hermione said her goodbyes.

"Dad," he said to Mr. Weasley as he held out his hand. Mr. Weasley smiled at his son and pulled him into a hug, ignoring the handshake that had been started. George hugged his father back.

"I'm so proud of you, George. And I'm so happy for you."

George desperately fought to keep his emotions in when he heard his father's words. Those were words that were rarely heard by Fred and George when they were growing up, always being the ones in trouble. He had only heard it a handful of times, the last time being when his father came to visit Fred and George at the shop for the first time.

"Thanks Dad," he said, his voice choked with emotion.

They parted and George turned around, looking for Hermione, who was caught in another huge embrace of Mrs. Weasley's. She was finally released and she joined George. They walked hand-in-hand to the front yard, where they disapperated without a word, both too caught up in their thoughts. They landed in the living room and headed to the bedroom to get ready for bed, Hermione especially exhausted from all her crying. They both undressed on their separate sides of the bed. George climbed into bed in his shorts that had snitches on them, and watched as his wife unbuttoned and then raised her arms to pull on one of his button down shirts, so old it was fraying at the collar and halfway up the sleeves, to where he had always folded it. He did not look at any part of her but her stomach, trying to see if any bump was there, showing any evidence of his soon-to-be son or daughter. He hadn't noticed it before, probably because he had been so caught up in their fighting, then their celebration, then the dinner, to notice that she had a bump starting. He saw her abdomen curving out, and felt a glow as he finally fully appreciated the realness of the situation. There was his wife in front of him. His beautiful, beautiful wife, and there was his little boy or girl. He knew they still had about seven months to go, but he was anxious to be a dad. He hadn't noticed how much he had been staring until Hermione coughed loudly. His head snapped up, a dazed look still on his face.

"What were you so intrigued with?" she asked, climbing into bed.

"You," he said simply. He smiled as he saw a blush slowly spread across her cheeks. He loved how she always blushed when he complimented her; he found it adorable. They lay there for a few minutes in silence, but, just as George was starting to feel tired, Hermione spoke up.

"That was a lot to deal with today."

"Tell me about it." There was a pause and then George said, "If that was bad, imagine how nuts they'll all be when the baby's born."

They looked at each other and chuckled. Then they completely lost it. The tension they had been holding in, plus all of the emotions that had filled them tonight overwhelmed them, and they laughed their heads off. Hermione finally hiccupped herself back to silence, with George gasping for breath, clutching his sides.

Hermione giggled at George's bright red face and leaned over, kissing him on the cheek. He smiled and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close and kissing her softly on the lips.

"Goodnight George."

"Goodnight Hermione."


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Note:** Thanks so much for all the follows, reads, and reviews. I really appreciate all the positive comments on my story! Still not Rowling.

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The next months were crazy for the Weasley family. After the drama of Hermione and George's announcement and Luna's depressing exit, it was as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for something more to happen. For about a month, Luna and Ron were separated. She lived at her father's house for just over a week, but Ron came, almost banging down the door, desperate to talk to her and apologize. Luna had disapperated when he managed to get into the house and he had no idea where to look next. Hermione only knew of this because she was in the middle of making a late breakfast, despite her lingering nausea, and screamed as she heard a _crack!_ from right behind her.

"WHAT? WHAT?" George yelled, running out from his room, his shirt half-pulled on and his trousers unzipped and unbuttoned. He was thoroughly unthreatening and more than a little distracted, trying to pull the sleeve onto his head in order to see what was going on.

Hermione finally registered the presence of a tearful Luna before her view was blocked by white-blonde hair, as Luna had run into her arms, seeking solace.

"Luna, what's wrong?" asked Hermione, blowing hair out of her face and trying to catch George's eye. George finally managed to pull this shirt on correctly and came over to help.

"Luna, what happened? Did Ron do something to you?" She just sobbed harder, George earning a glare from Hermione.

"George!" she mouthed.

"What?" he mouthed back.

"Don't talk about Ron!"

"I didn't know!"

"George!"

"WHAT?"

"Your trousers are falling."

George looked down, breaking the eye contact that had been directing their silent conversation, and saw his jeans were sliding off his hips, having never been fastened.

"Oh," said George, embarrassed. He zipped and buttoned his jeans, following Hermione, who was leading Luna to the couch. Once they had sat down, Hermione asked about Luna again, her voice soft.

"He- he- he just is so frustrating!" Luna managed to say between gasping breaths.

"What did he do?" asked George.

"He's just been following me and trying to get me to forgive him. I just wish I could get him to learn. He just can't figure it out even though he keeps hurting me over and over," said Luna, sniffling and rubbing her very red nose.

"Don't worry, Luna. You can stay here as long as you like. He won't think to look here. You just stay here and I'll get you something to wear so you can take a nap."

"I'll go make some tea," said George, standing up and heading towards the kitchen. As Hermione came back with a nightgown that she never wore anymore, George was just heading back to the couch, a steaming mug of tea in his hand. Luna gave him a watery smile and took it gratefully. As she sipped her tea, George and Hermione were silent. After a few minutes, George looked up, an evil grin on his face. Luna and Hermione looked at him warily.

"Do you want to teach him a lesson?"

Luna faltered then said, a question evident in her tone, "Yes…?"

"Luna, I have just the thing for you!"

"Where is it, or rather, what is it?" asked Hermione, somewhat worried.

"Don't worry," said George, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "It's all up here," he said, tapping his temple. "I'll see you two later." George hurried out the door, headed to his office.

The two girls watched his retreating back, thoroughly confused. Hermione shook her head and got up, extending her hand to the puffy-eyed girl. Luna took it and was hoisted up to her feet. Hermione led her to Fred's old room, which was clean and had fresh sheets on the bed. Hermione flicked her wand and the shutters closed, dousing the room in darkness.

"You stay here and relax and I'll go to your house and get some clothes for you, so you can stay here as long as you need."

Luna sniffled and smiled at Hermione, then embraced her, burying her face into Hermione's shoulder. "Thank you so much Hermione. I don't know what I would do without you." Hermione smiled, feeling a tinge of guilt as she remembered how much Luna used to irritate her when they were at school. She hugged Luna back and ushered her to the bed.

As Hermione left, closing the door behind her, she heard George storming back up the stairs to the apartment. She strode to the door and pulled it open. "What were you talking about back there with- RON!" She finally realized that the redhead in front of her was not her husband, but the man from whom she was hiding his wife. She was glad she had stopped her sentence before she had mentioned Luna's name.

"Do you know where she is?" Ron asked, worried. He did not look his normal self. He was pale and looked a bit drawn, as though he had not slept or eaten since she had left. "I can't find her and I've been searching everywhere! It's been almost a fortnight!"

Hermione did not want to lie outright if she could help it, so she decided to play dumb. "Luna?"

"Yes, Luna! I tried to see her at her dad's house but she disapperated and I haven't been able to find her since. Do you know where she might have gone?" asked Ron, his voice tinged with hysteria.

"She probably went to someone she knows cares about her. Have you tried Ginny?," asked Hermione. 'Well,' she thought, 'it's not a complete lie. We do care about her.'

"Yes! That was the first place I looked!" Ron was definitely getting hysterical now.

Right then, George walked up the stairs behind Ron. Ron turned around at the sound of footsteps and Hermione mouthed 'HELP' over Ron's shoulder. George's expression, which had so fleetingly shown surprise, had smoothed out to a calm and breezy smile.

"Hey, little bro. What brings you around? Not trying to steal any of the products, are you?"

Ron turned to completely face George and asked him the same questions with which he had been bombarding Hermione. Hermione was thankful for this because George had always been a much better liar than she had been and she was worried she wouldn't be able to throw Ron off any more.

George looked at Hermione with a confused look on his face. "Well, we haven't heard about this. I bet she'll turn up soon, mate. If she doesn't want to talk to you, just give her some space. She needs some time to think and cool down. Give her time and when she's ready, she will come to you and talk. Just give it time, mate."

Ron sighed sadly, and looked like a balloon that just deflated. "Okay. Thanks," he muttered. He turned to Hermione and she gave him a hug. He was patted on the back by George, and Ron trudged sadly down the stairs, a _crack!_ announcing his absence soon after.

George walked up to Hermione, who was still standing in the open doorway, and wrapped his arms around her. She rested her head against his chest and sighed.

"Do you think everything will work out for them?" Hermione asked, into the folds of George's shirt.

"I'm sure it will. Like I said, they just need time. Personally, I think Luna just needs to even the playing field and then Ron will understand not to mess with her. It looks like he's already coming to terms with how much she affects him and how much worse off he is without her." George stroked her hair, his other arm still securely around her shoulders.

"I just want everything to be okay with them. I know he loves her and I'm sure she loves him too."

"I do," said a voice, both strong and sad.

Hermione and George froze. George looked up and Hermione turned around to see Luna in the living room, just out of sight of the doorway. She looked at them, the usual dreamy look absent, having been replaced by a look of despondency.

"I do love him, and I'm sure he loves me. I just think he can't control his temper. And he needs to learn to think before he speaks."

Hermione smiled softly at Luna and walked over, wrapping an arm around Luna's shoulders. George, however, remained in front of the door, which he had finally closed. "Were you there the whole time?" he asked, a curious look on his face.

"No, actually I was a couple feet behind Hermione."

"Then how-" Hermione started, terribly confused.

"Disillusionment charm," Luna replied simply.

"Oh."

"So you saw how worried Ron is and how messed up he is without you there?" George asked, doggedly.

"Yes, and I do miss him, but I want him to learn that he can't just come back and apologize and everything will be lovely. I don't want to be a burden, but would you mind if I stayed hidden here for a while longer? No longer than a fortnight, I promise." Her voice was determined and strong, but her red eyes told the true story.

"You can stay as long as you like," said George, who walked over and gave Luna a hug. "What are big brothers for?" Luna, who was an only child, teared up, never having had this kind of understanding and affection from anyone but her father and her mother, before she died. Hermione brought Luna a mug of hot cocoa with homemade whipped cream once George had brought her into Fred's old room. Just as they were leaving, George said to Luna, "It's a good thing you're staying a bit longer. My idea will take a few more days to work out and perfect." Hermione and Luna looked at him quizzically, but he merely smiled mischievously and said as he walked out the door, "Give me five days."


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's Note: **Major thanks to all my readers. I know I would have kept writing, but I don't think it would have been half as fun without the knowledge that people enjoyed my work. And to those of you who review, you make my day. So, THANK YOU! (Still not Rowling. Sigh.)

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**PS: If anyone needs a beta, I am registered to be one now, just FYI. :)**

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For almost three weeks, Luna lived with Hermione and George. She was a pleasant guest, keeping to herself when they were at work, helping with dinner, and even cleaning without being asked, but simply doing so out of gratitude. Finally, as a month had passed of Ron and Luna's separation, or Luna's disappearance, to be more accurate, Hermione came to Luna's door and knocked on it softly. A soft voice called, beckoning Hermione into the room. She walked in slowly and saw a marked change to the room. George had told Luna to change the room's colors to suit her fancy so as to make her more at home. Hermione had been shocked at this, because this would mean changing _Fred's_ room.

_She had brought it up when they were in bed, about to turn out the lights. She saw him visibly tense before flicking his wand and extinguishing the lights. There was a long silence as he laid himself down and stared up at the ceiling. _

"_George…?" Hermione inquired quietly._

_He shifted and turned to face her, a strained look evident on his face even in the darkness. "I just want her to be happy. She deserves to be happy, wherever she is. She's always had people being miserable to her because she different. Fred used to stand up for her when we were at school. I mean, I did too, but he would get real angry about it, just like Ginny did. He'd have wanted me to take care of her."_

_His face worked and he coughed, clearing his throat. This attempt to hide the upsurge of emotion at talking about his twin was not lost on Hermione, who scooted over and wrapped her arms around her husband, his head resting on her shoulder. "I'm sure he would have. And I think you're doing a marvelous job of continuing what he would have wanted. Not just with Luna, but with the shop, with yourself, with everything." She heard George clearing his throat again and felt a rogue tear sliding down her shoulder blade as the hold around her waist tightened. She knew that no matter how much better he seemed, George was still hurting immensely. She doubted that the pain would ever go away, and only she knew when the guard came down and he was feeling vulnerable. She held onto him as though he was the only thing keeping her afloat in a storm-tossed sea, and he held her, if possible, even tighter, afraid. Afraid of the dark thoughts that still haunted him in his dreams, afraid of letting Fred down, afraid of letting himself be hurt and vulnerable again, afraid of falling back into the black hole that had been his life before Hermione. _

"Wow Luna," Hermione said, looking at the walls. "Did you do all this by hand?" There were beautiful murals all over the walls, done with a kind of ink that made the drawing almost come to life. One wall was a painting of Hogwarts, its lights glowing in the dusk, a few stars just starting to twinkle. Another wall was a collection of all of Luna's creatures, all moving around. There were two walls blank, which had so far been left the green color George had chosen.

Luna looked up from what appeared to be a sketchbook and smiled at Hermione. "Yes," she replied, a note of pride in her voice. "I hope you don't mind."

Hermione smiled at her and shook her head. "It's wonderful. I think it might need to stay like this forever."

"Well, when it's finished, of course. I still have three walls to do."

Hermione, confused, wrenched her eyes away from the paintings to look at Luna again. "But there are only two walls left, Luna."

Luna smiled. "The ceiling as well. I was going to do the floor, but I wanted to ask George about it before I did it."

Hermione was stunned into silence. "It's fantastic, Luna. But I need to talk to you about something." Hermione sat down on the bed and Luna followed suit. "Luna, you've missed three Weasley dinners. You have to go."

"I just-"

"I know, Luna. You don't want to see Ron. You heard him, though. You saw him. He's a wreck without you. At least give him a chance to try and apologize. I'm not saying you have to go and everything will be perfect, but at least give him the benefit of the doubt. Plus, Molly will probably implode if you miss a whole month of Weasley dinners." Hermione smiled at Luna, whose protuberant eyes had been downcast during the conversation.

Luna sighed. "You're right. I know. But I'm still going to do that trick, whatever George was making."

"I don't know if that's such a good-"

"I'VE DONE IT!" The shout rent the air, followed by the front door slamming, drowning out the rest of Hermione's sentence. A second later, George charged into the room, eyes sparkling and a huge grin on his face.

"What is it?" asked Luna and Hermione simultaneously.

"You'll see tonight. Just trust me." Hermione looked uneasily at her excited husband. Whatever it was, it was not going to be good.

…

Hermione and George apperated to the Burrow and started walking, Luna apperating a few feet back, so it would look as though they had not come together. As they walked down towards the garden, they could see that the table was just getting its last dishes and people were sitting down. Hermione had used a patronus to send Ginny and Harry the message that Luna was coming and to not let there be an open spot next to or near Ron. Ginny had assured her she would inform the rest of the family, minus Mrs. Weasley and Ron, and make sure Luna could keep her distance. As the opened the gate to the garden, a shout was just audible over all the talking.

"LUNA!"

It was Ron.

"Dinner!" Mrs. Weasley called, ushering Ron to his seat, Harry and Bill immediately flanking Ron, Ginny and Percy filling the other half of the table, leaving Luna with the seat farthest from Ron. Ron tried to get up, but with a sharp "Sit!" from Ginny, he sat, desperately trying to catch his wife's eye as she said hello to everyone. Dinner was served and everyone seemed to be have a good time, albeit trying to gloss over the awkwardness of Ron desperately trying to catch Luna's eye during the meal and her determinedly ignoring him. They were just finishing the main course when something odd started happening to Ron's plate. Harry was the first to notice, and was thankfully quick enough to suppress his shout of surprise and revulsion. What had been left on his plate, mere crumbs and bones, was slowly turning into spiders. Spiders as big as your pinkie nail to spiders as big as a baby's fist. They started slowly crawling around his plate, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Ginny now noticed and suppressed a scream. Finally, Ron turned back to his plate and stared at the plate for a second, taking in what was happening, then screamed. The spiders had formed the word "LUNA" and he struggled, desperately trying to push his chair backwards, but it seemed to be stuck to the floor, not allowing him to leave. The spiders then shuffled to "APOLOGIZE." Everyone stared at his plate now, able to see it now that the food had been magic-ed away. Ron had stopped screaming and his struggling lessened as he stared at the plate, now changing into one final word – "LOVE." There was silence so absolute, it was as if no one was breathing, as they watched the spiders suddenly turn back to the remains on his plate. He continued to stare at the plate, as if still seeing the spiders. He looked up, and looked at Luna, a look of fierce determination on his face. She didn't see it, however, as she was too busy staring at the plate in shock. He got up and walked around the table and forcefully turned her chair around so she was facing him. She made to say something, but he said quickly, "Please. Let me speak." Luna's mouth shut with an audible snap and she, along with the rest of the family, gave Ron her full attention.

"Luna, I've been a git. I know I can be a git quite often, but this time more than usual. I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. It was immature and stupid. I think it came from years of it always being Harry, Hermione and me. It was always the three of us, so I felt a bit, I dunno, possessive. I shouldn't have and I'm sorry. I don't love Hermione. I mean, I do, but not the way I love you. I love her because she has been one of my best friends for nine years. I love you because you're my wife and because you sing lullabies in the shower and hum yourself to sleep. I love you because no matter how often people try to argue that the blibbering humdinger and the crumple-horned snorkak and all those other creatures are figments of your imagination, your belief that they exist has never faltered. I love you because you always know how to calm me down and when to put me in my place."

The corners of Luna's mouth tugged upwards, against her will.

"I know neither of us wanted this arrangement originally, but we stuck with it and I have never made a better choice. I've been a wreck without you. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can barely think straight. I tried to find you, and I even gave you space, but I can't do this anymore. You know that house over on the next hill, the cottage with the little garden that you like so much?"

"Yeah?" said Luna, her voice quiet.

"I bought it for us. And apparently it's overrun with gnomes." He gave a hopeful little smile. "Luna, please come home."

There was a beat of silence in which no one moved. Then, without warning, Luna burst into tears and threw herself at Ron, burying her face into his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist. He beamed and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding on tight, as though afraid to ever let go of her again. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, which reached to just below his chin.

George started clapping, shocking everyone out of their silence. Ginny and Percy laughed and Hermione and Harry started clapping along. Mrs. Weasley had, to no one's surprise, started crying quietly during Ron's speech and was now wiping her streaming eyes. Soon the whole family was applauding for the couple, who grinned giddily.

"Mum?" Ron said, looking over Luna at his mother. "I'm going to take Luna home. Thanks for dinner."

"Thank you," echoed Luna, whose arms were still wrapped tightly around Ron.

Mrs. Weasley beamed at them and waved them away. They walked a few feet, then disapperated with a _crack!_

"Clever prank, George. Who knew you were a bit of a Cupid?"

Surprisingly, this comment came from Percy, who was smiling appreciatively at George.

"How did you manage to change his food?"

"A powder sprinkled on his food and a spell to activate it. I'm going to market them with different things that scare people. What do you think?"

"Quite clever indeed. But if I find something like that on my dinner plate, you won't be alive for very much longer," said Percy with a smile. The family laughed as Ginny spoke up.

"I'm so glad everything worked out."

"Ron's really matured in a very short time," said Mr. Weasley from the other side of the table.

"I wonder when we'll get the news!" said an excited Mrs. Weasley.

"What news?" asked several people at the table.

"About when I'll have more grandchildren on the way!" said Mrs. Weasley happily.

The couples at the table groaned and George spoke up.

"Mum, it's sick how excited you are getting about your kids getting knocked up."

"GEORGE!" shouted Ginny, Hermione, and Mr. And Mrs. Weasley. Bill and Harry just slapped their palms to their foreheads.


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's Note: ** I am SO sorry it has taken me this long to update. School got out of hand and, ironically enough, I've started back up while studying for finals. I just need an outlet for when I can't handle another hour of studying. Anyhoo, nothing's changed; I'm still not Rowling and I'm still a beta and I'm still writing. Enjoy!

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As weeks passed and Hermione and Ginny's stomachs swelled, another piece of big news was shared at the Weasley dinner table. Luna was beaming and Ron was red-faced, his blue eyes sparkling.

"We're pregnant!" Ron shouted over Luna, who had begun to talk. Happy shrieks and shouts of surprise were heard over the scraping of chairs, as everyone stood up to hug the now-happy couple.

"So, I guess you two made up," said George to Ron, a cheeky grin on his face.

"Shut up," said Ron, barely concealing the grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. As everyone settled, Mrs. Weasley spoke up.

"So Ginny is first, then Hermione two and a half months later, then Luna four months after. Oh this is so exciting!"

"Your keeping tabs, Mum?" said Percy, a confused look on his face. "That's just a bit odd, isn't it?"

"It's a mother thing. She did the same thing with Fleur. It's normal," muttered Mr. Weasley, leaning over to Percy, although the whole table heard him. As dinner continued, Hermione noticed George kept whispering to Mr. Weasley, Percy, and Bill. She didn't think too much of this, but she had found it a bit odd he hadn't sat next to her like usual, but rather sat at the other end, constantly deep in conversation. He only looked up at her occasionally, smiling and winking at her. Although this made her feel better, she was curious as to what he was up to. He had been coming home later and later the past few weeks, as well as asking her to watch the shop, saying he had to go into London for the "boring business side" of the shop. She hadn't told anyone about this, and simply refused to think of worst case scenarios, not wanting to let her imagination get the best of her and their relationship. After dinner, Hermione sat with Harry, listening to him tell her about how neurotic Ginny had become lately, constantly changing and rearranging the nursery, even though there were three months to go and the gender of the baby was unknown. As Hermione smiled, laughed, and nodded in all the right places, she watched for George out of the corner of her eye.

George, on the other hand, was busy talking to his mother.

"Oooohhh!" squealed a bright-eyed Mrs. Weasley.

"Shhh Mum! So I wanted you to know so you can get started, like I promised. But really simple. Just us. No big thing. And add two more to the number, okay?"

"Who are-"

"I can't right now, Mum, but don't worry, it'll make sense quite soon. Now I have to go, so can you keep Hermione here for a few more hours, then take her home for me?"

"George, why can't you-"

"Mum, I can't. Please help me. I really need to do this."

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Of course, dear. Go, go get done whatever this mystery is."

George gave her a swift, strong hug before dashing out of the kitchen as quietly as possible, walking far from the Burrow before disapperating, making sure no one would hear the noise. Not two seconds later, Hermione excused herself from Harry as Ginny came over, effectively halting their conversation about the nursery. As Hermione made her way towards the kitchen, Charlie rushed towards her, having been ordered to distract her. Hermione spent an hour having a good-natured argument with him about legislation regarding dragons, but then excused herself to use the bathroom. As she walked back, looking for George, Mr. Weasley trapped her by asking her to explain multiple random muggle objects. By the end of Hermione's explanations of a blender, brakes, and hockey, two more hours had passed and Hermione was getting worried about George's absence. She finally made her way over to Mrs. Weasley, who attempted to distract her by having her try a new pie recipe.

Hermione had had enough. She was worried and did not understand why everyone had been constantly switching the subject whenever she mentioned George. Desperately trying to swallow the huge piece of pie Mrs. Weasley had force-fed her so she would be able to talk ('This must be what Ron feels like all the time,' Hermione thought.), she choked out, "Maw-ee, wheh eh Orge?"

"What, dear?" Mrs. Weasley said kindly.

Hermione finally managed to swallow, then started spluttering, making a grab for the water glass in front of her. After a few hurried gulps and some hacking coughs, she managed to speak.

"Molly, where is George?"

Mrs. Weasley's cheeks blushed slightly as she said, "What do you mean, dear?" in the calmest, most unconcerned voice she could manage.

Hermione looked at her with a very Mrs.-Weasley-ish expression on her face. "Molly…"

"Dear, I don't know. He had to leave and asked that I make sure you were okay. He told me to make sure you got home safely." Mrs. Weasley looked up to see Hermione quickly brush away a tear that had strayed down her face. "Hermione! What's wrong?"

Hermione gave her a watery smile, saying "Nothing" in as unconcerned of a manner as she could muster. Then, she suddenly burst into tears. Mrs. Weasley rushed to her (in her mind) daughter and enveloped Hermione in her arms.

"Shh, it's okay," Mrs. Weasley cooed. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Hermione couldn't stop herself, she began to tell Mrs. Weasley all about how he had been gone for longer than usual, how he had been leaving to London for a few days at a time, about how he'd been distant lately, and how she feared the worst."

As Hermione cried into her shoulder, Mrs. Weasley silently thanked herself and her husband for having raised men who knew better than to cheat, but at the same time cursed George for not being stealthy enough with whatever he was doing when the time really called for it.

"I'm sure everything is fine. Actually, I can promise everything is fine and you have nothing to worry about, dear."

Hermione sniffled and rubbed her very red nose, looking into Mrs. Weasley's bright blue eyes, so very like George's, with her own red-rimmed brown ones.

"You're sure?" Hermione said in a very small, scared voice.

"Yes. A mother always knows, dear. There's nothing to worry about. Now, let's get you home. Let me just let Arthur know." Mrs. Weasley bustled out of the room, and returned a few minutes later with Hermione's bag and jacket. "Put it on, dear, it's chilly outside."

Mrs. Weasley guided Hermione into the crisp September night and with a turn, she pulled Hermione into the abyss of time and space.


	30. Chapter 30

**Author's Note: **Still not Rowling, please keep reading!

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Mrs. Weasley and Hermione landed in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes with a _crack!_. Mrs. Weasley started leading Hermione up the back stairs that led to her apartment. They got to the door after slow progress up the stairs, Hermione leaning heavily on her mother-in-law, exhausted and emotionally drained. Mrs. Weasley opened the door and led Hermione in. Hermione was about to head to her room, when she heard a cough behind her. Thinking it was Mrs. Weasley, she said, turning, "Thank you, Molly for taking me h-."

Hermione gasped.

Mrs. Weasley was indeed behind her, but she was not alone. George sat in the armchair in the corner, almost hidden in shadow, the firelight occasionally illuminating his profile, lighting up his eyes, which sparkled in the semi-darkness. On the couch sat Hermione's parents, tears pouring silently down Jean Granger's face, while Alan Granger tightened his hold on his wife's shoulder, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Hello Hermione, dear," said Alan Granger quietly, his smile evident in his voice.

The world spun, and all light and sound faded as Hermione fell to the floor in a dead faint.

…

The group looked down at Hermione, who was out cold. George, thanks to his Quidditch and war reflexes, had cast a cushioning charm on Hermione as she had fallen to the floor. He had carried her to her bed and had been watching her anxiously as Molly and the Grangers had followed him in.

"Enervate," George muttered. Hermione's eyelids fluttered. "Hermione? Can you hear me?" he asked quietly.

Hermione's eyes fluttered open and she looked at George.

"George, what happened? I thought I saw my parents and then I got dizzy and I can't remember anything after that."

George smiled at her. "You fainted. That's why you don't remember anything."

"Why would I faint?"

"Look to your left."

Hermione turned her head and gasped again as she looked into her worried mother and father's eyes. "I thought-, I thought it was a dream. What-, how is this possible? I tried-, I couldn't-…" Hermione's eyes filled with tears as her voice trailed off.

Jean Granger gently brushed away the stray hairs that had fallen into her daughter's face from the commotion as her husband began to talk from his position at the foot of the bed. "This man came to our house one day about a month ago, claiming to be a doctor and saying that there had been an accident but we didn't remember it because we had amnesia. He said he was sent by the hospital to give us weekly checkups and he directed us to take medicine every day. As the weeks went by, your mother and I started remembering odd things about a little brown-haired girl." At this, he smiled and put his hand reassuringly on his daughter's calf. "About how she had been…different. About how she had gone off to school. About how she said she had to protect us and promised to find us after the war. About how much we missed her."

"Daddy, I tried to fix it. I couldn't. I tried, Daddy, I really did," Hermione sobbed. Mrs. Granger wrapped her arms around her daughter, rocking her slightly.

"We know you did, love. We know. George explained everything." At this, Hermione's head snapped up, staring at George. Everything had just clicked into place.

"How-, how did you-?" Her eyes searched his face, as if the answer would be written upon it, desperate to understand.

George chuckled. "All that reading I've been doing was on old medical texts and spell books. The spell you did almost three years ago was so strong that a simple reversal spell hadn't worked. I found instructions for a potion in some dusty old file about solutions they occasionally have to use at St. Mungo's if the spell has done too much damage. Between the potion and weekly attempts of the reversal spell, it finally worked. I'm so sorry I kept disappearing for days at a time. I probably made you think the worst of me, and I'm so sorry for that. I just wanted it to be a bit of a surprise."

He looked anxiously at Hermione, who was staring at him with shining eyes. Suddenly, she sat up and flung her arms around him. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou," she repeated over and over through her renewed sobs. George looked shocked but pleased, and gently passed the crying Hermione off to her father. George got off the bed and headed towards his mother, who had been standing in the doorway.

"So, did I do alright?" he asked her quietly, a grin on his face.

"Thank heavens you did this, because that girl was a wreck because of your disappearances," Mrs. Weasley said, somewhat reproachfully.

"Mum, give me a bit more credit. Do you ever think I would hurt Hermione on purpose?"

"No, of course not, but emotions run high during pregnancy." She looked up at her son, who was watching the reunited family with a small smile on his face. He turned to face her, his brow furrowed and his eyes full of worry.

"You think tonight is the right time? You don't think it will take away from this, do you?" he asked her quietly.

Mrs. Weasley chuckled and laid her hand on his arm. "You've made her so happy with this. I think it will just make tonight even more special. Wait a while, though, until everything has calmed down."

George and Mrs. Weasley quietly left the room, leaving the Grangers to catch up on the 3 years they had missed with their daughter.

…

"We're so glad we have you back, sweetheart," said Mrs. Granger, smiling at her daughter. "I can't believe how much we've missed: the end of the war, your marriage, your pregnancy." Mrs. Granger teared up at the thought that her baby girl was going to be a mother soon.

"Mum, you haven't missed it," Hermione said with a smile. "We've got a while before this baby comes around." Hermione looked over at her father, who was at the foot of her bed, watching her silently with a small smile on his face. "Dad, are you alright?"

Mr. Granger smiled. "I was just remembering you as a toddler, scaring us with your odd abilities." They all laughed and he continued. "I remember coming home one day and hearing noises from your bedroom, and as I opened the door, something purple rushed out. When we finally found Bailey hiding under a chest of drawers, we discovered you had turned her purple with blue whiskers and paws. Thankfully the color faded, because we refused to take her to the groomer. They probably would have thought we were awful people and dyed our kitten for fun." The family laughed as Mrs. Granger spoke up.

"Remember when that boy, the one from your class, made fun of you? Oh, what was his name? Didn't you set his pants on fire?"

Hermione laughed and replied, "Abercrombie. And it wasn't his pants; it was his backpack. I got in so much trouble with the headmistress."

"Yes you did," replied Mr. Granger, the scolding tone of his voice slipping as he smiled at his daughter. "I remember being called in from work to take you home."

"You took away my books!" said Hermione, an angry seven-year-old again.

"You set someone on fire! And we didn't hurt them; we simply put them on the top shelves."

Mrs. Granger chuckled. "Yes, and somehow she managed to get them to float down to her. Nearly had a heart attack when I walked in and books were zooming about the sitting room."

The family laughed, but suddenly Hermione's face fell. "I'm so lost. I don't know how to be a mother. What if I'm terrible at it?"

Mrs. Granger smiled reassuringly and stroked her daughter's hair. "Darling, you'll do just fine. More than fine. You've always excelled at everything. And the way you've taken care of those boys for all these years, especially during the war? The way you've taken care of George? You'll be a great mother."

"Wait, how do you know about that with George? And with the war?"

Hermione's parents smiled at each other. This time, Mr. Granger spoke up. "We've had our memories back for about a week now, thanks to George. All this time, he's been filling us in on what happened, what we missed. You did a great thing, Hermione, pulling him out from where he was. He said he had been thinking about suicide for a while before you came around. You might not know it, but you've helped a lot of people, Hermione."

Hermione's mind went temporarily went blank at her father's mention of suicide. Fear flooded her mind and she noticed her parents watching her through a kind of haze. "Umm, can you excuse me for a moment?" she said shakily, sitting up quickly and moving off the bed. She rushed out of her room and into the living room. She looked around frantically, but only saw Mrs. Weasley, busily making something in the kitchen. "Molly, where's George?"

"In the second bedroom, I think."

Hermione rushed to the room and opened the door hurriedly. There was George, sitting in a rocking chair she had not ever seen before, staring at Luna's creatures as they flew, slithered, and hopped across the wall. His head turned at her entrance and he smiled at her, his face changing to worry as he saw her expression.

"Mione, what is it? Are you okay? Is it the baby?" He rushed to her side, trying to move her to the chair.

"Suicide?" Hermione whispered, her eyes filled with tears.

George's face blanched. "Your dad mentioned that?"

"Suicide?" Hermione repeated in the same scared whisper.

"I didn't. See, I'm here, I'm fine. Plus, that was right after Fred died. I was a wreck. I just wanted to be gone too; I just wanted to be with him."

"But, but…" Hermione mumbled, her forehead furrowed in worry.

George held her shoulders tightly and stared into her eyes. "Hermione, it was a long time ago. I never did it because I didn't want to make my family go through losing both of us. Plus, it was a cowardly way to go. At least he died fighting; he was a war hero. He would have wanted me to be strong too. I was just going to keep on existing, and then you came and showed me how to live again. Don't worry, sweetie. I'm not going anywhere." He pulled her close and held her tight, both regretting having told her father about that and thankful he didn't have any secrets anymore.

"C'mon," he said, letting go and instead taking her hand, pulling her out towards the living room. "Let's all sit and I'll get you some cocoa, alright?" Hermione nodded and squeezed his hand tightly, as if afraid to let go.

When they entered the living room, Mrs. Weasley was talking to the Grangers in excited whispers. As soon as the couple entered the room, the whispering ceased and the three looked over at George and smiled, Alan Granger nodding to him, almost imperceptibly. George smiled back and nodded, mouthing "_Thank you"_ over Hermione's head. George sat Hermione down in her favorite armchair and stood in front of her, a smile on his face.

"Hermione, you have helped me more than any other person in the world. You not only married me when I was an emotional black hole, but you brought the old me back, and I can never thank you enough for everything you have done for me. I know it seems a bit silly, but here goes." He heaved a deep breath, as if steadying himself. Hermione watched him quizzically, completely confused. George sunk down onto one knee, his face almost level with Hermione's, and spoke up, his voice quivering slightly with nervousness.

"Hermione Jean Granger, my best friend, my love, my ray of sunshine on a cloudy day…will you marry me, for real this time? Not for any law, but for love. Will you marry me…again?"

As he said this, he pulled a small box out from his pocket and opened it. Inside was a delicate gold ring with a tiny, tulip looking design where the stone should be. As he pulled it gently from the box, the petals of the "tulip" opened, as if blooming, and inside the golden buttercup was a perfect diamond, designed to be the center of the flower.

Hermione gasped, staring at the ring. She looked up at George, and beamed. "YES! YES! OF COURSE I WILL!" She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him fervently on the lips. She pulled away quickly and smiled at him. "Of course I will, George." He slipped the ring around her finger, and it shrunk to fit her finger perfectly. Suddenly, the sound of clapping and crying filled the room. George and Hermione turned around, having forgotten there was an audience. Mrs. Granger and Mrs. Weasley had burst into tears. Mr. Granger, on the other hand, finished his clapping and stood, making his way over to the couple.

"I would generally say 'Take care of my little girl,' but considering everything, I suppose the proper response would be 'Continue taking care of my little girl. You've done a great job so far.'" George extended his hand and Mr. Granger took it, then pulled George into a hug. "I know you're the right man for her. Thank you for everything."

George blushed and smiled at his father-in-law. "Thank you, sir. I just wanted to make her happy."

Mr. Granger then turned to his daughter and hugged her tightly. "I'm so happy for you, Hermione. It's hard to think that we just got you back and I have to give you away to another man, but I know he's good to you."

"He is, Daddy," Hermione said with a smile, her voice slightly muffled as hugged her father.

Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger finally pulled themselves together and congratulations and hugs were given out. Suddenly, Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, "Oh, this means I get to organize your wedding now!"

Everyone laughed and George shot Hermione an exasperated look. "She's already started," mumbled George. Hermione chuckled and pulled George closer.

"You realize Ron is going to be furious because that means Molly is going to start pestering them about having a real wedding."

George chuckled, an evil grin spreading across his face. "I get to marry the woman I love and torture ickle Ronnikins? My god, I'm a genius!"


	31. Chapter 31

**Author's Note: **Not Rowling, thanks for reading and reviewing. Also, noticed I screwed up by making the whole Weasley family blue eyed, when Mrs. Weasley and Ginny have brown eyes. Eh, it works better for my story with all blue, so sorry to anyone (like me) who wants everything according to canon!

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Hermione stared out Ginny's bedroom window at the white tent that was spread out in the Burrow's expansive shadow and she fidgeted, flattening down nonexistent wrinkles on her dress. She heard the door quietly open and click shut. A few light footsteps were heard, then they stopped as an arm wrapped around her shoulders.

"Are you nervous?" asked Mrs. Granger quietly.

Hermione smiled wryly. "No," she said softly. "I've never been more sure of a decision in my entire life. I just…I never pictured it this way."

"Pictured it what way?"

Hermione continued to stare out at the tent, watching the people running around beneath it. "I never pictured being pregnant, quite pregnant actually, when I got married. I never pictured having to redo a marriage."

"Dear, no one pictures those things," said Mrs. Granger with a smile. Hermione finally turned and faced her mother, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"Mum, I never even thought I'd even get married. Between the war and my awful years after it, there was a part of me that thought I'd never find anyone. And of all people, George, who I've known for years but never actually knew until a year ago. It's just…it's a lot. A lot has changed so quickly." Hermione wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing all her eye makeup across her face.

"Oh sweetheart, I know it's a lot. You probably thought your father and I would never get to see you married either. But now we do, and we get to see your baby, and be a part of his or her life, as well as yours. I know looking back can get you emotional, but think of all the good things that are coming up, starting with today." Mrs. Granger hugged her daughter in her arms, holding on tight. After learning about how long she had been gone and how much she had missed, she tried to make up for lost hugs and lost "mother-daughter times" in every embrace. A knock sounded on the door.

"Who is it?" called Mrs. Granger.

"The only one more pregnant than the bride." Hermione chuckled as Mrs. Granger opened the door to reveal Ginny in a rather tight forest green dress with a sweetheart neckline and a hemline that stopped right above the knees. Hermione sighed exasperatedly.

"Gin, did you have to alter the dress I picked out?"

"Hey, at least I kept the color. Pregnancy has given me much more of a bust then I ever had. The world deserves to see it."

"Yes, but does the baby deserve to be bandaged into that dress?" Ginny sent a snarky look at Hermione, who simply smiled and shook her head.

"Harry doesn't seem to mind."

"I highly doubt he would, but I'm sure your mother will."

"I am a married woman. I am allowed to dress as I want."

Just at that moment, Mrs. Weasley walked in. "Oh Hermione, I just can't believe- Ginevra Weasley, what have you done to that dress?"

Ginny paled and glanced around distractedly. "Oh, was that someone calling me? I think I-" Without finishing her sentence, she ran out of the room with impressive balance and speed for a woman 7 ½ months pregnant in high heels. Hermione laughed as Mrs. Weasley looked after her, a frown still on her face. The frown faded as she turned to look at Hermione and her eyes filled with happy tears.

"Oh Hermione, I can't believe you're going to be my daughter!"

Hermione looked at Mrs. Weasley, a confused smile on her face. "But Molly, I already am your daughter-in-law."

"Yes, but this time is by choice, which makes it so much more special!" Mrs. Weasley gasped as Hermione turned back around to face the other two women in the room, having just fixed her makeup.

"Oh Hermione, you look so beautiful," said Mrs. Granger. At the same moment, Mrs. Granger and Mrs. Weasley burst into tears, both sitting down on the bed next to each other. In tandem, they pulled out handkerchiefs and dabbed at their streaming eyes. Another knock was heard at the door and a voice called through.

"I know I'm not supposed to see the bride before the wedding, but I thought you should know we are starting in about five minutes."

"Thank you, George dear," said a choked Mrs. Weasley. She proceeded outside to see to it that everyone was seated and ready. Mrs. Granger and Hermione followed her out and headed to the opening of the tent, where Mr. Granger was waiting. He beamed at his daughter and opened his arm, into which she ran the last few steps. "I can't believe my baby girl is getting married," he said, his voice choked as he tried not to cry. "I can't believe how much you've grown and how much we've missed. I promise we'll never miss another milestone again."

"Dad, you're going to make me cry again," she said into his chest, her voice wobbly.

"Well, we can't have that!" They both laughed and he extended his arm to her, around which she wrapped her arm. "Ready?"

"Yes and no."

"Well, that's as good as we can get. Let's go." He smiled at his daughter, pulled her veil over her face, and started walking just as music began to play.

…

_Clink clink clink clink clink clink!_

Silence fell as Mr. Weasley finished striking his champagne glass. He smiled around at everyone, finishing at his son and (technically) new daughter-in-law.

"I don't want to take up too much time, especially because I was lectured my daughter about having gone on too long at her wedding, but I just want to say how happy Molly and I are for you two. I know we've said it before, and now I'll say it again: I don't think any of us would be where we are without Hermione. Not only has she managed to keep my sons and daughter alive for almost ten years, but she brought us all back to a place we had lost for a long time. She brought the smiles and the laughter back into our lives, and more importantly, into my son. He, in turn, brought back the light back into hers. I know that we originally thought that the Ministry was taking the mickey when it came up with that law, but I don't think any of this would have happened without it. I never thought I'd say it, but thank heavens for the Ministry bungling everything up. I wish you two all the happiness in the world, and I know your mother would like to say something if she wasn't incapable of speech due to her crying."

Everyone laughed and applauded as Mr. Weasley sat down and Mr. Granger stood up.

"A father's biggest fear in life is the idea that one day, he'll have to let go of his little girl. That, one day, he won't be able to hold her when life gets too hard, to kiss her booboos when she scrapes her knee. That, one day, she'll grow up, meet a, hopefully, wonderful man and have a family of her own. That he will have to hand her off to another man and hope that his threat of ripping that man limb from limb if he hurts his little girl will never come to any fruition. Ever since that day when I held her in my arms after the doctor handed her to me, I have feared that day. That day has finally come. And I am very happy to know that the man she has chosen is a man I can trust with my little girl. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be here at my daughter's wedding. To him, I say thank you. George, take care of my baby girl. I trust you."

Much clapping followed this, accompanied by the sound of noses being blown. A misty-eyed and serious-looking George wrapped his arm around Hermione, who was practically sobbing into his chest. She got up and rushed over to her father, throwing herself onto his lap and hugging him, crying onto his shoulder as his wife cried besides him, being held by an equally moved Mrs. Weasley. After everyone had calmed down and laughed a bit at Ginny's stories, as she was the maid of honor, food was served and happy chatter filled the tent. When it was time for the couple's first dance, the chairs and tables moved to the outer edges of the floor and music started. George and Hermione headed to the center of the dance floor to much applause and began to spin as George's arms wrapped around her waist and her arms wrapped around his neck.

"So, what are we doing after this? Are we off to have a honeymoon?"

Hermione smiled at him and said, "Honestly, just having a few days off to be able to stay in bed all day and relax would be honeymoon enough for me. All this wedding stuff has been exhausting!"

"You didn't do any of the planning besides pick out dresses and colors. What could be that exhausting?"

"I'm pregnant and I had to deal with your vain and very pregnant sister as well as your wedding obsessed mother. That's more exhausting than planning the wedding myself."

"Point taken." George smiled at her. "So just a few days off? That's what you want? No beaches, no relaxing in the sun?"

"Do you think I really want to suntan while I have a boulder attached to my stomach?"

George chuckled. "I think you look beautiful with that boulder attached to your stomach, but I get your point. By the way, are you sure that's one baby in there? Ginny's almost three months ahead of you and you're basically the same size."

"Is this honestly what we're talking about at our wedding during our first dance?" Hermione laughed and George joined in.

"We're so past 'You look beautiful tonight.' Oh, and by the way, you look radiant tonight, love."

"Thanks. You look quite dashing yourself." She rested her head on his chest, noticing they had been joined by other couples now.

"So now it's real," she said, more to herself than to him.

"You happy?" he said, smiling down at her.

"Immensely. And you?"

"So much it's almost unhealthy."

Hermione laughed and looked up at George. "I love you."

"I love you too." He leaned down and kissed her gently, their bodies still swaying to the music, completely oblivious to the world around them.


	32. Chapter 32

**Author's Note:** A few short chapters ahead, I'm surmising. Hope they're still as enjoyable despite the length! Still not Rowling.

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Outside the Burrow, the scenes of fall were come and gone. Orange and red leaves floating lazily in the breeze, the fall winds shaking the trees, giving them the appearance of a raging and billowing fire, its sparks flying into the air as leaves flew off and spun to the ground. Now the trees had all been emptied, leaving shadowy and hunched figures behind, their branches reaching towards the sky like grasping, clawing hands. Putting out the firey nature of fall has come the frosty winter, it's delicate, fluffy snow blanketing the ground and buildings, leaving the trees and yard looking as though they were from a fairytale. All was peaceful and quiet, the occasional birdsong piercing the frozen air.

The same, however, could not be said for the atmosphere inside the Burrow.

"What do we do? What do we do?" Harry shouted from his wife's side on the couch where she had collapsed in pain. Mrs. Weasley was running around, making sure she had everything they might need for the hospital while Mr. Weasley shouted into the fire, flooing everyone in the family to let them know the situation.

"Arthur! Get out of the fire!" shouted Mrs. Weasley as she hurried over to her daughter.

"Sorry dear," he said, his head reappearing from the flames. "Shall I ready the fire?"

"YES!" shouted Harry and Mrs. Weasley in unison.

A few seconds later, with a shout of "SAINT MUNGO'S," they were gone, leaving Mr. Weasley to continue informing the family.

…

Hermione turned her head in her sleep, resting it on George's chest. George instinctively wrapped an arm around her, still fast asleep.

"HERMIONE! GEORGE!"

Hermione and George's eyes flicked open at the shout and they sat up quickly, the blankets sliding off their chests and into their laps.

"GEORGE!"

George leapt out of bed and ran towards the living room, shouting, "I'm here! Hold on!" Hermione joined him at the fire place seconds later, looking scared and anxious. They were rarely contacted by floo, which was generally used only for emergencies. George was in conversation with his father's head, floating amongst the flames.

"Harry showed up with Ginny early this morning, about 2. Said she was in pain and he didn't know what to do. He and Molly just went to Saint Mungo's with her."

"Is it time?" asked Hermione.

"We think so," replied Mr. Weasley.

"We'll be there in a mo'," replied George quickly, and with that, Mr. Weasley disappeared from their fire, presumably to find his daughter at the hospital. Hermione and George rushed back into their room, both hurriedly pulling on the first clothes they could find and rushing to the bathroom to quickly smarten up. Once they were cleaned up enough to be presentable in public, they returned to their fire. After throwing powder into the grate and stepping into the emerald flames with a cry of "SAINT MUNGO'S," they were off.

…

George tripped as he shot out of the fire that emptied out into a white lobby, filled with chairs and hovering globes of light. He looked around and found Hermione at the front desk, already asking the Welcome Witch about Ginny. He headed towards his wife and the young witch at the "Inquiries" desk, who was quite done up considering how early in the morning it was.

"Room 152," he heard the witch say.

"Thanks!" cried Hermione, who started off in the direction the girl had pointed. George had just reached the counter and asked, "Weasley, room 152, right?"

The young witch smiled at him in what she obviously thought was a seductive manner and leaned towards him, giving him a generous view of her cleavage. "That's right, but you sure you want to leave so soon?"

George was so taken aback by the oddness of the situation that he faltered, not knowing how to avoid this situation while still being courteous. Just then, Hermione ran back over to him and wrapped her arm possessively around the small of his back, her hand resting low on his hip. She turned to him and said in a sweet voice, "Come on, darling, you don't want to miss your niece or nephew being born!" She turned to the Welcome Witch and said with a dangerous smile, her tone steely, "Thanks so much for the help. You have a good day, now." She turned, pulling George close to her, and walked towards Ginny's room.

"Wow, Hermione," whispered George, so as not to be overheard by the witch, "Who knew you were so possessive?"

She frowned, her upper lip curling as though smelling something foul, and said, almost spitting the words out, "That was just utterly classless, using a hospital waiting room to try and pick up guys. Not that it would work well with her face plastered like that."

George started cracking up, his laughter echoing in the empty hospital hallways. Wiping his streaming eyes, he stopped and hugged Hermione tightly. "I have never seen you this jealous and spiteful before." Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but he talked over her. "I like it. And you probably ruined that girl's morning."

"Good," said Hermione, entwining her fingers with George's as the resumed their search. "Honestly, there is a ring on your finger. You're obviously taken."

George grinned at her. "Merlin, you're adorable when you're jealous."

"Shutup."

They walked for a few more yards, George quietly chuckling to himself, until they saw half the family waiting outside a closed door. Charlie and Percy looked up as they headed towards them, smiling as they saw who was there.

"How long?" George asked Charlie.

"I've been here half an hour. Dad let me know first. Percy showed up about ten minutes after. Bill and Fleur haven't showed up yet, and Ron-"

His words were interrupted as they heard pounding footsteps and, turning, saw Ron and Luna running towards them.

"Has it-?" began Ron, who was cut off by a pale Percy, who replied, "Not yet."

As they all stood around nervously in the overly-quiet hallway, staring at the door, they saw a shadow from inside the room grow more distinct before the door opened. Noise erupted from the room like an explosion, and Ginny could be heard.

"**I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! ONCE THIS BABY IS OUT, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU! YOU-**" The shouting stopped abruptly as Mr. Weasley closed the door with a snap.

"Harry's getting some abuse in there, but she's doing fine. Quite well, actually. It should be within the next hour." Everyone smiled at Mr. Weasley, relieved, then recommenced their pacing, nervous leg jiggling, or fidgeting. Half an hour later, the door flew open and Harry, his green eyes alight and his hair on end as if he had been running his hands through it, ran out and stopped abruptly, facing them.

"IT'S A BOY!"

Cheers bounced off the walls of the hallways and they all filed into the room. Before them was Ginny, red-faced and looking exhausted, smiling at the little bundle in her arms. As they all huddled in around the bed, Ginny smiled up at them and adjusted so they could see the baby's face.

"Everyone," she said, a huge smile on her face, "meet James Arthur Potter."

Everyone exclaimed over the baby, while Mr. Weasley hugged his daughter and Mrs. Weasley held baby James. "You named him after me?" Mr. Weasley asked, a few tears trailing down his face as he was handed his grandson.

"Of course, Daddy. Harry and I decided it a while ago." Mr. Weasley smiled at his son-in-law and handed him his new son.

"Thank you, Harry. That means a lot to me."

Harry smiled at him before looking down at his son, a look of awe in his face. Harry teared up as he held his son in his arms. Ginny patted his arm, completely understanding. Harry had never had this. Well, he had had his parents, but only for a year. He had never fully known what it was like to have parents, people who love you and protect you. Now, to be that source of love and protection for someone else, to have a son of his own? It was a lot to process, but in a good way. He held his son close to his chest and whispered to him, unheard by anyone else in the din of the excitement,

"I'll always be here for you, James. No matter what. I love you."

James stared up at his father with his hazel eyes and blinked. Harry knew he understood.


	33. Chapter 33

**Author's Note: **Here's a check to see if you guys really read my author's notes or if you just skim past them (like I usually do hehe). I'm still not Rowling.

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Hermione was sleeping peacefully when she felt the bed shift and heard the mattress squeak.

"George?" she asked, groggy, her eyes still closed.

"Yeah honey," he replied, turning to her as he got off the bed.

"Where you going? Come back to bed," she commanded sleepily. She heard a chuckle and felt the bed next to her sink slightly as weight from his arms pressed down into the bed. He leaned over and brushed the curls away from her face, kissing her forehead lightly.

"I'm just off to the loo. Go back to bed, darling. I'll be right back," he said, smiling at her as he straightened up again.

" 'Kay," she replied, curling back up under the covers and falling immediately back to sleep.

She was asleep as George snuck out of their room and into what was soon to be the baby's room. He put a silencing charm on the room as soon as he walked in as a precautionary measure and slipped in. She was asleep when he came back into bed a while later, smiling at his wife hugging her pillow to her chest in a death grip, her hair a wild tangle about her face. She was asleep when he woke up a few hours later and slipped out of the room to prepare for the new day.

…

Hermione stirred as she felt someone brushing her hair from her forehead gently.

"_Hermione…"_ she heard, a singsong whisper coming from somewhere to her right.

"_Sweetie…" _She heard a sigh of aggravation, then she felt pressure on her lips. George was kissing her. Well, she was certainly awake now. She grinned into the kiss and kissed back. George pulled away chuckling.

"Finally! You can't just respond to your name?" He sat down next to her waist and smiled down at her.

"Now why would I do that when I can have Prince Charming kiss me awake?" She grinned and wrapped her arms around his torso.

"Who's Prince Charming? I like that."

"Sorry. It's from a muggle story."

He smirked in a self-satisfied way. "Don't be. I like it. Quite apt a description, I would say. Wouldn't you?" Hermione rolled her eyes and shoved him, making him almost fall off the bed.

"Hey hey hey! No pushing the kind and thoughtful husband who brought you your favorite hot cocoa in bed for our first Christmas together." He grinned at her as she sat up excitedly.

"Oh, I forgot it was Christmas! Happy Christmas, George!" She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his jaw. He growled, fastening his arms around her waist.

"Well, if you want to start Christmas another way…" he trailed off, leaning forwards towards Hermione, a fiery look in his eyes and a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

"George… George, don-, GEORGE!" she squealed the last part as he came towards her and she struggled to escape his grasp, giggling as she did so.

"Oh no you don't!" he cried and dragged her back towards him. He pulled her onto his lap as she, still laughing, fought valiantly to escape. "This is our first Christmas together. I'm not letting you go for a second!" He kissed her full on the lips, interrupting her laughter. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her forehead against his when they broke apart.

"I'm surprised you could still lift me so easily with this added baby weight."

George laughed. "You doubt my strength, Mrs. Weasley? I am wounded! You have bruised by manly and macho ego!"

Hermione chuckled. "Oh, you're a big boy. You'll get over it," she said, patting his cheek mockingly.

"I'm just surprised you were able to move as quickly as you did, considering the baby." He smiled down at her stomach and laid a gentle hand on it. His expression suddenly changed to one of shock. "I just-, I felt-. Was that a kick?" He looked up, a look of awe on his face. Hermione smiled at him and rested her hand on his.

"It just started a couple days ago. It's all getting quite real now, isn't it?"

George looked up and beamed at her. "Happy Christmas, Mrs. Weasley."

She smiled and wrapped her arms around him again. "Happy Christmas, Mr. Weasley," she said into his shoulder.

…

After enjoying hot cocoa and a nice breakfast together, George pulled Hermione from her chair. "Present time!" he cried, dragging her to the living room, where their Christmas tree stood, covered in baubles George had designed for the store.

"Okay, okay!" she said, half-laughing at her husband's childlike antics. "You go first."

"Noooooo," he wailed, "you have to go first!" He jutted out his bottom lip into a pout.

She sighed, pretending to be exasperated. "Well, if I must." She grinned at him and sat down on the floor next to the fire while George sat across from her, next to the Christmas tree. He gently lifted a box and set it in front of her.

"Be careful, it's fragile." She looked at him quizzically and untied the ribbon, slowly tearing off the wrapping paper. As she went to open the now bare box, it shook slightly. She opened the box slowly, afraid of something popping out and attacking her. Instead, she saw two bright green eyes looking back at her. She gasped as a little face popped out over the edge of the box.

"Mew?"

Hermione beamed as she picked up the little kitten. It was a dove grey Scottish Fold, fluffy and adorable, her little ears wrinkled and close to her head. Her big leaf green eyes sparkled as she cocked her head to the side, staring back at Hermione in an almost owlish manner.

"George," she said breathlessly, "You got me a kitten?"

"You like it, right?" he asked nervously.

"I adore her! It's a girl, right?"

He grinned at her. "Yup, I figured a cute baby girl would be a nice change from the crotchety old man Crookshanks was. Hey!" he exclaimed as Hermione swatted him with her free arm.

"Crookshanks wasn't that bad!"

There was an awkward pause as George tried to avoid an argument about her old cat that had been about as kind and fluffy as a rattlesnake. "So what are you going to name her?" asked George, changing the subject.

Hermione cradled the kitten in her arm and tickled its fuzzy belly. "What should your name be? Hmmm…?" The green eyes peered around as she looked expectantly for the hand that had been rubbing her a minute ago. "Marigold," said Hermione, a sense of finality in her voice.

"Marigold?" asked George. "But she's not any color resembling a flower!"

"That's not true; she had eyes the color of spring leaves. How does Marigold sound to you, little one?" she asked the kitten, scratching behind its ears. It purred in response.

"Marigold it is, then," said George happily.

"George, it's time to open your gift!" Hermione said. She put Marigold down and handed the heavy rectangular present to him with a look of anxious anticipation on her face.

Unlike Hermione, George tore at the paper and, in a few seconds, he was surrounded by piles of shredded wrapping paper and was staring at a large picture frame, big enough to frame a man's torso. It was a simple rectangular frame made out of a handsome dark cherry wood that held a stretch of royal blue material. George looked up at Hermione with a questioning expression.

"Thanks for the…frame?" She smiled at him and looked down at the frame.

"Give it a minute. He wants to make an entrance, apparently."

"Who…" He gasped. He was looking down at the smiling face of Fred, who was watching him with twinkling eyes. The picture was so large and so lifelike that it looked as though someone was holding a frame in front of Fred's shoulders and face. "What, how, I don't…" George stammered.

"I know I'm dazzlingly handsome, but I never knew I took people's speech away," said Fred, winking at Hermione.

"How did you do this?" asked George, staring at Hermione with eyes the size of saucers.

"I've been working on it for a while now. I went to the painter who does all of the headmaster portraits for Hogwarts and he said he would do it, but it would take a long time considering the size. Luckily, he finished just a few days ago. You like it?"

"Oi! When did I become an 'it'?" shouted Fred's portrait, which had just been set on the ground as George moved towards Hermione. George pulled her towards him and kissed as he had never done before, putting all of the emotions of the moment into the kiss.

"OI!" shouted Fred, "You get to snog someone and I get to stare at the ceiling. Not fair, mate!"

Hermione and George broke apart, smiling at each other and Fred's antics.

"Pipe down, Fred," said Hermione. "You'll be fine in a minute." George stood and helped his very pregnant wife up before turning to pick the picture up.

"You and Little Miss Rules, who would have thought?" said Fred, flashing a cheeky grin towards Hermione, who knew he was teasing his twin.

"Right? Who knew? Turns out the Ministry knew us better than we knew ourselves." George smiled at Hermione as they walked about, looking for a place to out the portrait.

"Which room gets the best view of the house and has the most people in it, usually?"

"The living room," responded Hermione automatically. She grinned at Fred as George carried him to the spot above the fireplace. "Dead and you still want to be the center of attention!"

"Ouch!" said Fred, jokingly. "This coming from the woman whose stomach probably extends all the way to Scotland."

"Bugger off," replied Hermione teasingly.

"Hey, you two!" George called as he worked on attaching the portrait to the wall above the mantle.

"George, we need to get ready. We have to be at your mum's soon."

"Great! I'll see…" started Fred, whose words caught in his throat at the look Hermione was giving him over George's shoulder. "I'll see how things have changed while you're gone," he finished casually, seeing Hermione's sigh of relief.

"I'll go get ready," said George, who bustled off to the bathroom.

"You almost gave it away!" Hermione hissed at Fred.

"Oh hush, I fixed it!" he replied, dismissing her with an airy hand. Hermione shook her head and walked out of the room, Fred staring fondly after her.

…...

As they walked to the fire to floo to the Burrow, George looked up at Fred. "Happy Christmas, Gred."

Fred grinned. "Happy Christmas, Forge. See you soon!" He winked at Hermione, and walked out of the side of his frame, leaving a stretch of blue behind.

…

Christmas at the Burrow was a mess of sound and color. People ran around the house, shouting and singing, bumping into each other and generally wreaking havoc. There was much confusion until dinner was called and everyone headed down to eat the sumptuous feast Mrs. Weasley had made. Once everyone had eaten seconds and thirds of everything and were full to the point of bursting, the party moved to the living room, where everyone spread out and Hermione and Luna distributed the presents. The presents ranged from cookbooks and cooking supplies for the wives (though Mrs. Weasley told them that this didn't exempt them from coming over all the time) to infant clothes and supplies for Baby James to jokes presents from George (all of which included many layers of wrapping paper surrounding many boxes that had to all be opened a different way). After presents had been opened, hugs and thanks had been distributed, and scorch marks had been removed from the carpet from where Charlie and Bill had gotten frustrated and blasted their presents open, it came down to the last gift, which Hermione had been hiding.

"Molly," she said, handing the package to Arthur as she couldn't get up easily, "This is for the whole family, but especially for you and Arthur."

Mr. Weasley gave Hermione a quizzical look while Mrs. Weasley hesitantly started unwrapping the present. Everyone looked on, curious as to why the present was such a secret that it had to be kept for last.

Mrs. Weasley gasped and Mr. Weasley shouted in shock. There in front of them, in their arms, was their lost son.

"Hi Mum, Dad," said Fred's portrait, grinning up at them.

At the sound of Fred's voice, the rest of the family leapt to their feet and rushed over. Ginny and Mrs. Weasley broke into tears, while the Weasley men, including Harry, all smiled down at Fred, watery-eyed. Hermione watched as a burden seemed to be lifted off her mother and father-in-law's shoulders as they looked at their son. Hermione knew that although she hadn't brought him back, the ability to talk to him and have him still be a part of their lives was no small compromise. Mrs. Weasley looked up.

"George, did you…?"

"No," he said, smiling down at his twin. "This was all Hermione's doing. She gave me a matching portrait for the apartment."

Mrs. Weasley started getting up, but was encumbered by the heavy frame. Mr. Weasley, however, was faster. He came over, pulled Hermione up from the floor, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest. "Thank you," he said, his voice choked with both joy and grief. "Thank you. What- what you've done for this family- Thank you." She hugged him back, glad to have fixed the worries she knew had been plaguing him and his wife – the fact that their son had died and they never got to tell him how much they loved him or how special he was to them or how much he meant to them. They were soon joined by Mrs. Weasley, who hugged Hermione tightly, sobbing into her hair. Everyone in turn came up and thanked Hermione. This was not a present, this was a part of their family; this was their brother, their son, their best friend. The fact that she had returned him to them, no matter what the form, meant the world to them.

"OI!" shouted Fred's portrait, who had been watching from the armchair, where Percy had rested his frame. They all turned to look at him, tear tracks still forming on their smiling cheeks. "What about me? No one's wished me a Happy Christmas!" They all laughed.

"Happy Christmas, Fred," they all said, almost in time.

The rest of the night was spend laughing, joking, and ducking from the exploding baubles on the tree that, when touched, burst into fireworks. Hermione stood by fireplace, watching her mother-in-law chasing after her husband, chastising him for almost making her tree ignite.

"You did a good thing, Granger."

Hermione looked to her right to see Fred smiling down at her from his new perch above the mantle. "Thanks, Fred."

"No, thank you. I get to still be with my family, even if I'm not, you know, _here_." He grinned at her and then assumed an angry expression, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "You do realize you made me come for the one day a year she plays that awful Celestina Warbeck constantly. I don't even have exploding snap to distract me! Rude much, Miss Priss?" He winked at her.

She rolled her eyes and smiled at him. "You can always go to your other portrait, but I think your mother would be royally pissed if you skipped out on Christmas at home. She'd kill you…well, metaphorically…"

"Eh, I'll suffer through it. I'll have my revenge."

"Oh yeah, how so?"

An evil grin spread across his face. "Let's just say your mini Weasley is going to learn a lot from his uncle Freddie."


	34. Chapter 34

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the long wait. I have been having health issues, as well as difficulty writing an actual hospital scene. Only a couple more chapters left! D: Thanks for the reads and reviews! Still not Rowling. PS: Oh my lord, Deathly Hallows was amazing!

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Hermione was in pain.

She had been in pain for two days now. She knew she was having contractions and that soon she would have to go to St. Mungo's, but she knew it wasn't time yet. Not that this was any consolation for the pain she was going through right now.

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH," she yelled in pain and frustration. She tried to get up so as to walk around, but, as if he had known exactly what she was trying to do, George rushed in.

"Hermione! Get back into bed!" he said, a worried look in his face.

"I don't want to!" she said stubbornly. "I'm sick of being in bed."

"Well, tough! You have to be lying down. The healer said so."

"I don't want to!"

George sighed. He didn't want her working herself up and potentially go into early labor or something. He didn't know how all this pregnancy stuff worked. He just listened to the healer and his mother and prayed that Hermione would cooperate. "Fine, will you lay down if you go in the sitting room?"

Hermione let out an aggravated sigh. "Fine." He walked her to the living room and made sure she was situated before he left. He came back with ice for her lower back, a cold washcloth for her forehead, and ice chips. After making sure she had everything she needed, he pulled up a chair and sat next to her, holding her hand.

"Thank you, George. You've been so caring about all this- AAAAHHHHH!" She breathed in and out slowly, her brow furrowed in pain. "All this pregnancy nonsense," she finished.

"Of course, love. I want to make sure you and the baby are okay." She smiled at him, but it turned to a grimace of pain.

Hermione knew this one was different. She was in more pain than before and it was lasting longer. And she felt as though she was leaking.

Oh no.

Her water just broke.

"George," she gasped.

"Yes?" he asked worriedly.

"George!" she gasped again.

"What is it?"

"Now."

"What?"

"We." She took in a deep breath, trying to speak over the pain. "We have to-." She hissed in pain. "Go. Now."

George's eyes were as wide as saucers as he hurriedly got up and grabbed the bag they had packed, full of anything she might need while at the hospital. He helped his wife up, brought her to the fire, threw in powder and, as the flames turned emerald, shouted, "SAINT MUNGO'S!"

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Mrs. Weasley rushed up to the Welcome Witch at the front desk of Saint Mungo's and started firing questions at her rapidly.

"Hermione Granger, I mean Weasley. Where is she? How is she? Has she had the baby? Have there been complications? What's going on? Where is she? Where is she?"

The Welcome Witch, a young thing with much too much makeup on looked terrified in the face of Mrs. Weasley's terror and fury at her not responding quickly enough. Mr. Weasley moved his wife a few feet from the desk and asked calmly, trying to sooth the terrified witch, "Excuse me, but where would we find a Mrs. Hermione Weasley. She came in a little earlier to have her baby."

"Err…room 155."

"Thank you," said Mr. Weasley, who started walking away, but turned back quickly. "More redheads will be showing up asking the same question. Just direct them to the room, if you could. Thanks." And with that, he turned and hurried away with his wife.

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George was pacing the room as he waited for the healers to arrive. Where the bloody hell were they? His wife was in immense pain and they were probably lazing about, having bloody tea time or some bollocks. As he paced, he made a circle. First to his wife, to see if he could help, even though he knew there was nothing he could do, then to the door, to check if he could see any healers coming down the hallway, then to the bed again. As he was making his way back to the bed, a healer and two nurses came in and started waving their wands, doing some sort of checking procedure.

"Well, her water's broken and she's at nine centimeters," the healer said matter-of-factly to George.

"What does that mean?" he half-shouted, trying to keep from going completely hysterical.

"That means," the healer continued calmly, as though he had to explain this every day, which, now that George thought about it, he probably did. "This means that in order to have the baby, she must be ten centimeters dilated. She is at nine, meaning she is almost ready to have the baby."

"So how long?" asked George, hurriedly.

"We aren't sure. Could be minutes, could be hours. We will let you know when it's time, though."

"I would bloody well hope so," George muttered, loudly enough so they could hear him. The doctor seemed thoroughly unperturbed. He probably got insults and death threats ten times a day from women in labor and their terrified partners. The healer left the room, while the nurses stayed, checking Hermione's vitals.

"Hermione," said George after glancing out the door, "Some of the family is here. I'm going to tell them what's going on and I'll be right back, alright?"

"Someone just kill me. Please."

"I'll take that as an 'okay'."

…

Mrs. Weasley had been pacing frantically as her husband sat outside the room, his foot jiggling uncontrollably. In the about fifteen minutes after they had arrived, the rest of the family had slowly trickled in, first the Grangers, then the Potters, a sleeping baby James in tow, then Ron and Luna, followed by Bill and Fleur, and Percy. Charlie was held up in Romania and unable to make it out. Everyone had assumed a variety of nervous positions. Mrs. Weasley had been joined in her pacing by Mr. Granger, Harry and Ron, while Bill and Percy were copying their father in trying to look calm, all the while unable to stop twitching. Ginny rocked James while looking about, her eyes like saucers. Fleur was trying to read, but was actually staring at the page tensely, her eyes unmoving. Mrs. Granger was trying to knit, but ended up missing stitches from nerves. Luna, always the calm one, was staring at the door, her dreamy eyes a little more intense than usual.

Suddenly the door opened and a burst of noise filled the silent hall as Hermione's cries of pain bounced off the spotless walls. It was quickly silenced as the door snapped shut and George stood in front of them, his freckles standing out shockingly against his pale face. All eyes snapped to him and everyone started asking questions, each trying to talk over the other.

"It's almost time," he said shakily. "She's in a lot of pain, but they said they're going to give her something for it. She- ." His words were cut off as the healer hurriedly rounded the corner and made his way to the door. Everyone stared at him in scared silence.

"It's time."

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Hermione was in pain. It was less pain than before, thanks to the medicine they had given her, but she was definitely still hurting. She could feel the waves of pain crashing over her, starting at her low back and rushing forwards to her abdomen. She felt like she could barely control how her body felt, and that was a terrifying thought for someone who always liked to be in control of all situations. This felt like she was being ran over repeatedly by a Mack truck or something of equal weight and force.

"Mrs. Weasley. Hermione. I'm going to need you to push. Okay?"

Hermione began pushing and focused all of her energy on that and squeezing her husband's hand until it broke. It would serve him right for all the pain she was going through right now.

"You can do it, sweetheart. Just push," she heard him say from what sounded like a long way off.

She pushed and as she exhaled she said, her voice full of venom, "You are just lucky I don't have my wand right now, George Weasley. Because you would be worse than dead."

She heard him gulp, but paid no mind to it, as she was too focused on pushing this dratted baby out, just so the pain would stop. She felt some release and heard the healer say, "Excellent, Mrs. Weasley. There's one out."

"ONE!" both she and George yelled, so distracted she forgot about the pain for a moment.

"Yes, keep pushing. We need to get the other one out. We're almost there."

"THE OTHER ONE?" cried George.

"Bloody hell, no wonder this hurts so damn much. There's two!" And with that she pushed until she heard the healer exclaim, "That's it! They're both here and healthy."

She heard two keening cries and collapsed back onto the pillows, a shaking hand wiping her dripping forehead. George leaned over the bed and hugged her close to his chest, chuckling weakly. "It's over, sweetie. They're here and everything's okay."

The nurses walked over, each holding a baby swaddled in blankets. "One boy and one girl," said the older nurse, her blonde hair streaked with grey. They handed both babies to Hermione, who simply radiated happiness. George, beaming, leant over and kissed her, breaking away to stare in awe at the two babies in his wife's arms. He had never seen anything more beautiful, and his eyes teared up. Before he knew it, he had tears running down his face as he gently picked up one of his babies, the little girl, and smiled down at her wrinkled little face.

"What are we going to name them?" he asked quietly, almost reverently.

"Fred," Hermione replied immediately. George froze.

"Really?"

"I would have no other name," she said, smiling up at him. "Fred Fabian, so he has a bit of you and a bit of his uncle in his name."

He beamed at her and then looked down at the baby girl in his arms. "I've always loved the name Rose," he said quietly. Hermione looked thoughtfully at her daughter.

"Rose is a lovely name. What about her middle name?"

"Jean," said George, smiling at Hermione. "Just like her beautiful mother."

Hermione beamed at her husband. "Fred Fabian and Rose Jean it is, then."

Just then, they heard a pounding on the door and a redheaded face pressed up against the glass.

"Oh, I guess we should let the family in," said George guiltily. He handed Rose to Hermione and walked over, a wave of redheads rushing in, along with one mess of jet black hair, two brunettes, and two blondes. They all hurried up to the bed, growing quiet as they looked upon the two babies in Hermione's arms.

"Twins?" Mrs. Weasley asked quietly.

"Yes," said Hermione. "We were quite surprised."

"I knew you stuck out more than usual," said Ginny grinning.

"Gee, thanks Gin," said Hermione dryly.

"So what are their names?" asked Harry, looking at the babies now cradled in their grandparents' arms.

"Fred Fabian and Rose Jean," replied Hermione, smiling as George brushed hair away from her face and kissed her forehead. Mrs. Weasley's eyes filled up with tears as she smiled down at the baby boy in her arms.

"Hello, Freddie," she whispered quietly to the sleeping baby. A hush fell over the family as, slowly, his eyes opened up and he blinked sleepily at his grandmother. She gasped slightly, a tear trailing down her face. "He looks just like Fred did when he was born. He even has his eyes."

It was true. With his electric blue eyes and his head covered with red peach fuzz, he glanced around before yawning and falling back to sleep. He was handed back to his mother as everyone now looked at the baby girl cradled in Mr. Granger's arms. You wouldn't have known, at first glance, that she was a little girl, with her body swaddled and her head as bald as a ping pong ball. She was handed back to her father after many "oohs" and "awws," and Fleur asked the question no one else had thought of.

"Who was first?" The couple froze. Hermione looked at George, utterly at a loss.

"Umm, I have no idea," said Hermione after a moment.

"The girl was. She'll hold that over him forever."

Everyone swiveled around to see the blonde nurse smiling at them. They had forgotten she was still in the room due to all the excitement. She walked over to George and held out her arms.

"I'm sorry to do this, but I have to take them to be checked over." George hesitated and looked down at the baby girl in his arms. So this is what it felt like to give your firstborn child away. He knew he was going to get her back but he never wanted to let her go. Was this really necessary? His thoughts were stopped mid-complaint as his daughter was taken out of his arms by the smiling nurse. He made a noise of dissention in his throat, and he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked to his left and saw Harry standing next to him.

"I felt the exact same way, George. It kills, doesn't it? Don't worry; they'll be back in no time."

"Mrs. Weasley here needs some rest. She's been through an ordeal today." Another nurse had suddenly appeared, trying to corral the family out of the hospital room. After ushering out most of the family and practically dragging out Molly, Hermione and George were left alone. Hermione looked exhausted, but so happy. George smiled down at her, then bent down and wrapped his arms around her. She chuckled into his shoulder.

"Twins," she said weakly.

"Yeah," he said, smiling at her nervously. "Get some rest, love. I'll take care of everything. I love you."

She smiled sleepily up at him. "I love you too."


	35. Chapter 35

**Author's Note:** I love writing the kid chapters, especially because I planned what each kid would look like and their personality, house, and likes/dislikes. I'm super attached now, so I had to give each family their own chapter. Spoiler: I don't keep it completely canon, but in fan fiction, who does? I'll have all of the kids' full names in an A/N at the end of the chapter so you can know what they are if they're not mentioned in the chapter.

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**I've been getting this question a lot so I need to clarify. Each family is getting a chapter before the epilogue. Don't worry, George and Hermione are still here! They just get the last of the three because I like them the most! :D Sorry for the confusion!**

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_**Fifteen years later…**_

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Ginny was walking out to the backyard, holding a tray laden with sandwiches and pumpkin juice, when she heard a distinctive _squish_ and felt her bare foot sink into something that was definitely not the grass. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before looking down. Her foot was encapsulated in blue goo that was squirming unpleasantly. She shook her foot, but the goo clung on. She sighed and continued walking towards the table, where her husband was seated, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he read the Daily Prophet. He glanced up as she set the tray down.

"Lunch. Lovely." Harry smiled at his wife and stood halfway up, kissing his wife on the cheek as she leaned to pour herself a drink.

"Would you happen to know about this goo that _someone_ has created and left right outside the back door?"

"Goo?" asked Harry, looking down at the foot she was pointing to. "Eurgh. One guess as to who it was." He looked at Ginny, his eyebrows raised, as if to say, _"Not a surprise." _

"If you really want to know, it was a potion that went wrong," said a voice from high above. Harry and Ginny looked up to see their fourteen year old daughter high up in the branches of the oak tree that grew in the center of their backyard. Lily, her wavy red hair falling out of her messy bun, looked down at them with her hazel eyes, so often trained on a book, but now staring down at her parents with a disapproving look on her face. "Albus thought he could turn Sirius into a frog. Instead, it made Sirius sick and he threw up blue goo. He turned an interesting shade of purple, but then it faded."

Harry took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply. "Again?" he muttered exasperatedly. Ginny, however, kept watching her daughter.

"Honey, why are you up so high? There are lower branches."

"Yes, but they can reach those. I'm the only one who can climb this high. I'm protected. Well, rather, they're protected from my fist." Her face broke into an evil grin, her eyes glinting. Ginny smiled at her daughter, who was so much like her mother and grandmother, vivacious and sarcastic with a biting wit, and had surprised the family by being the first Weasley or Potter to not be sorted into Gryffindor. She was thrilled about being a Ravenclaw, and had written about it to her Aunt Luna, the only Ravenclaw graduate in the family.

"You should come down, sweetie. Lunch is ready," Ginny called up to Lily before charming the goo off her foot. As Lily began to climb down the tree, the whistling of a fast-moving broom was heard from around the corner of the yard. A broom shot towards the ground and James did a nosedive off of it, somersaulting and jumping up like an Olympic gymnast that had just stuck the landing, catching his broom as he beamed at his father.

"Showoff," Harry said fondly as he ruffled his eldest's dark brown hair. James, out of all the boys, was the most like his father. With his messy hair and constantly broken glasses, he was the leader and the protector, especially of his sister, although she didn't need much help. After growing up with three brothers, she had developed a nasty right hook and a perfect execution of the Bat Bogey Hex. James, in turn, had developed quick reflexes from mock fights with his sister, which had helped him gain his spot on the Gryffindor quidditch team as the seeker, taking the place his father had vacated almost twenty years ago. He grinned at his dad as he set his broom on the porch.

"Dad, do you think I'll ever get to use that? I hope so. Wouldn't that be brill?" His hazel eyes were brimming with excitement as he leaned over his sister and snatched the sandwich she had been about to take.

"Hey!" James chuckled and gave her the sandwich, reaching for another one. Harry leaned over from his seat and picked up his son's glasses, shattered again, to no one's surprise.

"I swear we're going to have to permanently stick these to your face. You keep breaking them no matter how many times we put Impervius charms on them. Oculus reparo!" James' glasses returned to normal and Harry handed them to his son, who was already halfway done with his sandwich.

Ginny looked around. "Where are those two? BOYS! LUNCH!" Footsteps were heard as a messy-haired twelve year old barreled around the corner, beaming, his usually dark brown hair a vibrant purple. His twin, his jet black hair neatly combed to the side, walked forward slowly, his nose buried in a book much too old to be one of his textbooks.

"Hey Mum!" exclaimed Sirius, running over to her and wrapping his arms around her, burying his face in her stomach.

"Oh no you don't, mister. You can't get away with this by being cute."

A snarky voice across the table muttered, "Why not? He always does anyways."

"Lily," Harry said, seriously, although he was grinning at her.

"But Mum, isn't it cool? It wasn't what we planned, but I like it. If it fades, can we turn it back again?" He pleaded, his emerald eyes going big and round like a begging puppy's.

"Definitely not. You're going back to school in a month. You'd probably give your professors a heart attack."

"Not Professor Longbottom! He likes me!"

"And you're lucky he does! He's the only one I haven't gotten owls from, complaining about you and your brother's behavior."

"Correction," said an identical voice from across the table. Ginny looked up to see Albus' hand raised in the air, his emerald eyes sparkling with mirth despite his serious expression. "Sirius' behavior. And my alleged assistance and/or design. Innocent until proven guilty."

"We already know you're guilty," said Harry, grinning at his son. "Just because you're in Ravenclaw and Sirius is in Gryffindor doesn't mean you two can't cause mayhem. I know where my Marauder's Map disappeared to. And we all know who was behind Scorpius Malfoy's hair turning red."

"I take full responsibility for that prank!" shouted Sirius. Albus jumped up, affronted.

"You liar! I was the one that made the potion!"

"Yeah, but I slipped it to him!"

"But I came up with the idea!"

"But I'm the one that pulls all of the pranks!"

"But I'm the one that designs them, you git!" Albus ran at Sirius and tackled him. James grinned and pulled his brothers apart.

"You prats, we all know you're a team. And plus, you just told everyone how you did it."

"I can't believe you were the ones that did that to poor Scorpius! I should have known!" cried Lily, furious.

"Oh, did we upset you because we hexed your _boyfriend_?" jeered Sirius. Lily blushed scarlet and ran towards him, shouting, "HE'S NOT MY- HOW DARE YOU- YOU LITTLE GIT, I'M GONNA RIP-"

Sirius burst into peals of laughter and ran as his twin grabbed two sandwiches and, giggling madly, ducked under his sister, who was being held back by James. They ran off, probably to make more mischief and see what they could blow up today.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" Lily yelled in frustration. "Mum! Dad!"

"I know, love. Think of it this way: at least you have one normal brother." Harry grinned at his son and daughter as James hovered next to his sister, ready to restrain her if she tried to kill their little brothers again. With a _hmmph_ worthy of Hermione, Lily stomped off towards the house. James rolled his eyes and looked at his parents eagerly.

"Mum, will you help me practice later?"

"Why don't you ask me anymore?" asked Harry teasingly.

"Because you were a seeker, not a chaser, honey. You don't have the throwing arm he needs for speed training." Ginny kissed Harry lightly on the lips.

"Eww blech gross!" James said as he made faces. "Mum! Really?"

"You're fifteen. Once you kiss someone, it'll seem less gross. That day is coming soon, don't you worry," said Ginny, smiling at her son. "And yes, but give it an hour or so to let the food settle. I don't need more surprises in the grass."

"Great! I'll go find Albus and Sirius, just to check on them." He grinned and started running off. "Don't forget we're going to the Burrow tonight!" Ginny called after him. He flashed a grin back at his parents, then ran off, in search of his trouble-making little brothers.

"I need to talk to Hermione about loaning Albus books," said Harry, who had been examining the dusty tome Albus had been poring over. "He seems innocent, but then we end up with our little punker over there." Harry sighed and looked down the instructions for the potion.

"He's going to go mad until he figures out what's wrong. Honestly, sometimes I think I accidentally had Hermione's kid, he's so much like her."

"Except for the fact that he's determined to break every rule possible," muttered Harry. "That's what we get for having Rose and Freddie mentor them during their first year."

Ginny sat down and leaned her head on her husband's shoulder. He stroked her hair and thought idly how peaceful it was, just sitting there in the backyard on that beautiful summer day.

A piercing scream rent the air, followed by the war cry of "**I'M GOING TO KILL YOU TWO!**" Harry and Ginny sighed. Just another day in the Potter household.

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**Author's Note: **They're James Arthur (15), Lily Ginevra (14), Albus Severus (12), and Sirius Remus (12). PS: A big thanks to smartykat for giving me the idea of Sirius Remus, which gave me the idea of twins. :D


	36. Chapter 36

**Author's Note: ** Well, now I can tell who reads my author's notes and who doesn't, because I got comments asking why there was a chapter on Ginny/Harry when I clearly put it in the A/N that I was doing a chapter for each family. Interesting. Anyways, not Rowling and thanks for reading and reviewing.

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_**Fifteen years later…**_

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Ron was carrying a pot of tea and two mugs out to his wife, who was reading under the shade of the weeping willow that grew outside their backdoor, when he tripped over something very solid laying on the ground. As he yelled in shock, the tea and cups went flying into the air and were about a foot from the ground when the froze in midair and slowly righted themselves before floating over to the small table, at which a tall boy with short, straight red hair sat, barely looking up from his book to see the source of the commotion. Luna walked over, her wand out, hovering the tea and cups until they rested gently on the table. She made her way over to her husband, sprawled on the ground, and the girl lying on the grass next to him, thoroughly unperturbed by the fact that she was the cause of her father nearly breaking his neck. She helped Ron up and looked down at her older daughter, Anomallie, who was staring up at the sky, her wavy strawberry blonde hair fanned out around her head like a halo.

"Mallie, sweetie, what are you doing down there? You nearly killed your father."

Anomallie looked over at Luna with a surprised look that seemed permanently etched on her face due to her wide, protuberant blue eyes that were so much like her mother's. "Oh. So that's what that was. Oh. Sorry Daddy," she said, looking around at her father, who was sitting up now, trying to steady himself.

"That's alright, Mal," he said, smiling fondly at her.

"Your tea is getting cold," said a bored voice from above Ron. He looked around to see his eldest, Hugo, who had made this announcement without looking up from his textbook, in which he was making copious notes.

"Hugh, you realize school doesn't start for a month, right?" Ron said, standing up and peering at the textbook over his son's shoulder.

Hugo sighed exasperatedly. "_Less than a month_, Dad. Hardly enough time to get through all my textbooks before the year starts. I should have started two months ago. I'm terribly behind." Hugo was the aberration in the family. While his brother and sisters were very sweet, but a little out there, Hugo was driven, hard-working, and obsessed with perfection. As Ron had put it many times, "It's like we got another Percy. Thank Merlin Hugo is less of a prat, though." It had surprised no one when the Sorting Hat had barely touched his head before placing him into Ravenclaw. Luna smiled at her son and ruffled his hair, earning an aggravated "MUM!" from him. Luna then sat down next to her daughter and looked up at the sky as well.

"What are you looking at?" she asked.

"I'm looking at the interesting patterns the clouds are making. See, that one looks like a dragon. I'm thinking of painting this later." Anomallie was the Gryffindor and the artist of the family, constantly painting and sketching. Her artwork filled the house and she repainted her room about every two weeks.

"I don't think it looks like a dragon," said a small, sing-song voice to Anomallie's and Luna's right. They looked around to see the youngest of the family standing there, staring up at the sky, a few twigs and leaves sticking out of her curly strawberry blonde hair, hinting at the tree climbing she must have just finished. "It looks more like a merryfingle to me. But definitely one with horns." She gazed up happily at the sky as Anomallie turned around and caught Hugo's eye, who shrugged, matching her look that clearly said _"Whatever."_ Her older brother and sister did not have much patience for Aurora, but they never said anything on the off-chance it might upset her. Aurora had been an accident that had happened two years after her older brother, August, had been born. Luna's last pregnancy had not been an easy one, and they had almost lost not only Aurora, but Luna as well. As a premature baby, she had needed to stay at St. Mungo's for almost three months before she was strong enough to go home. Since her birth, she had always been a bit odder than the rest of the family, which was saying something as these were Luna's children. She, like Luna, saw creatures that everyone else said were not real, and she talked to people who weren't there, bursting into tears when someone tried to tell her that her friends were only in her head. Her brother August was fiercely protective of her and doted on her constantly. He had assigned himself to be her body guard of sorts and had gotten into several fights with people who had teased her, despite the fact that he was in the peace-loving house of Hufflepuff.

August ambled up to the rest of the family and patted his little sister on the head. "It looks just like a merryfingle. But where do you see the horns? I'm missing them." Ron smiled at his son, resting his hands on August's shoulders, which were broader than his brother's. Unlike his brother, who was built long and lanky like Ron, complete with long nose and straight hair, August was shorter and stockier, with a pleasant face, clear blue eyes, and ridiculously curly red hair. He was not one to be judged on appearance, however, as his shorter build was backed up by his incredible strength, which had earned him a place on his house quidditch team this past year as a beater, even though it was generally unheard of for a second year to make such a difficult position. As the family looked up at the sky happily (except for Hugo, who was glued to his book), five specks were seen heading towards them.

"Look! Owls!" cried Aurora happily.

"They must be your school letters!" said Luna, smiling dreamily as the owls zoomed towards them.

"Why are there five?" asked August curiously. "There are only four kids."

"If you wait a second, you'll find out," muttered Hugo tersely.

"Oh bugger off," said August.

"You bugger off, git," replied Hugo without missing a beat.

"Berk."

From the outside looking in, it would seem as though the brothers didn't like each other, but anyone who knew them knew this was a normal occurrence, only given away by the slight grins tugging at the corners of both boys' mouths. As the owls landed and dropped the letters, Luna distributed the school letters before opening the last one.

"Ron, Molly wrote," she said, scanning the letter.

"What about?" he said, looking up quizzically from his cup of tea.

"Dinner tonight."

"Has she cancelled it? Please say yes."

Luna smacked him lightly on the back of the head with the letter, smiling as she admonished, "No! That's terrible. She just asked that we bring some drinks."

"And here I was, getting hopeful." Ron grinned at Mallie, who had been standing on a chair to read over her mother's shoulder.

"And she says nothing with lots of sugar, because Sirius and Albus get hyper," quoted Anomallie.

"Dinner at the Burrow? Excellent! I need to polish my broom so we can play a game tonight!" August ran off, Aurora skipping behind him, humming a tune.

"We're leaving soon, so you two should get ready," Luna said to Hugo and Anomallie, kissing her daughter on the top of the head.

"But, but, but I've got three chapters left!" cried Hugo.

"And they will still be there tomorrow, Hugh. Now go get ready. Don't make me hide your book."

Hugo gasped. "You wouldn't!"

"Wouldn't I?" asked Ron, grinning. "Now go get ready." Luna watched her kids head off into the house and rested her head against Ron's chest as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

"It's going to be odd, having them all off to Hogwarts this year," said Luna wistfully.

"Don't worry, love," Ron said, kissing the top of her head. "Neville and Hagrid will watch over them." They smiled and headed towards the house to get ready for the family dinner at the Burrow.

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**Author's Note: ** They are Hugo Octavius (15), Anomallie Fiona (14), August Wren (13), and Aurora Oubliette (11).


	37. Chapter 37

**Author's Note: **Almost the end! NOOOO! But I have a new story already lined up, so never fear. You're not getting rid of me that quickly! Still not Rowling, keep on reading.

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_**Fifteen years later…**_

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A scream ripped through the relative silence that blanketed the Weasley house, followed by the oft-heard cry of "**FREDERICK WEASLEY!**" Hermione stormed out from the bathroom, hurriedly tying her robe as she searched for her children. She found Rose in her room, crouched over what looked suspiciously like blueprints.

"Everything alright, Mum?" said Rose, turning around in her chair and smiling up at her mother, her deep blue eyes twinkling.

"Where's Fred?" Rose shrugged nonchalantly. Hermione narrowed her eyes at her daughter. "You liar. You two always know where the other is." Hermione began walking out of the room, but turned back at the doorway. "Don't think you're off the hook just yet, missy. I know you were involved somehow." Rose's eyes widened innocently as she got up to follow her mother out of the room. Hermione made her way to the sitting room, where she saw her son lounging on one of the couches, tossing a paper ball up in the air and catching it repeatedly.

"Fred Weasley," said Hermione, making her voice sound as serious as possible.

"WHAT?" chorused two falsely-innocent voices simultaneously.

"Not you," said Hermione, glancing at the portrait of her brother-in-law that hung above the mantle. "Although I wouldn't be surprised if you had been involved somehow." She turned her suspicious gaze to her son, who was now sitting up, smiling at her as though she had not just rushed in yelling at him. "Can you explain why my shampoo turned into spiders when I started washing my hair?"

Fred looked over at his twin and gave her a look. It was like they were the same person, cleft into two, just as Fred and George had been. To anyone just meeting them, they seemed to be oddly fidgety, but, in reality, they could and did have whole conversations just out of looks and twitches.

Fred raised his eyebrows. _"I thought we were testing it on Uncle Ron."_

Rose looked to the left. _"I didn't switch the bottles. She must have grabbed it out."_

Fred contracted his eyebrows almost imperceptibly. _"How? Didn't you hide it?"_

Rose rubbed the tip of her nose. _"You were supposed to hide it."_

Fred's eyes widened slightly. _"Oh bugger. I got distracted and must have left it out!"_

Rose pursed her lips in a very Hermione-ish manner. _"You're so taking the blame for this one."_

Fred crinkled his nose. _"Ah bollocks."_

This all happened in about 30 seconds, if not less. Hermione stood, hands on hip, looking expectantly at her son, her sodden hair plastered to the back of her neck, when her husband walked in the front door.

"Hello, how is- What happened?" George asked, his voice growing wary as he surveyed the scene in front of him, which included his wife, sopping wet and red in the face, his fifteen year old son smiling innocently from the sofa, his bright blue eyes betraying some nervousness, and his twin, standing kitty-corner to her mother, watching her brother intently.

"_Your_ son and daughter did something to my shampoo and nearly gave me a heart attack while I was showering," said Hermione, cocking one eyebrow as she looked at George.

"Oi! I was not being blamed a second ago!" cried Rose, indignant.

"Right, like Freddie did this on his own. Yeah, I'll believe that," said George sarcastically. Rose blushed and looked down, knowing she was cornered. "And why are they always _my_ son and daughter when they're in trouble?" he asked, frowning.

Hermione's face twisted into a reluctant smile. "You really think they got this from me?"

"She's got you there, mate," said Fred Sr. from the fireplace.

Hermione whirled around and pointed her finger threateningly at the portrait. "Don't even get me started on you. I know who gave them the idea to put a Whizzbang in the pudding at dinner last week." Fred had the decency to look shamed while Rose and Freddie grinned at each other before hanging their heads quickly.

"Mum, if it's any defense," started Fred Jr.

"Oh, this I want to hear," muttered George, grinning despite his best efforts to keep a serious expression.

"It wasn't meant for you. And I'm really sorry. We made it for Uncle Ron, but I grabbed the wrong bottle. I'm really sorry. It won't happen again." He looked up apologetically through his shaggy red hair, and looked so much like Fred and George when they had been cornered by Molly in their school years that Hermione simply burst out laughing.

"Come here," she said, laughing and opening her arms, into which her son and daughter ran. "Just make sure this gets to your uncle, and I'll forgive you of this." Rose and Freddie beamed at her, before running to the bathroom to continue their evil plans.

"Nice attempt at reprimanding," joked George, smirking at Hermione.

"Oh shutup," she said, grinning. "You know I can hardly ever get mad at them."

"I figured this couldn't have been planned, because they're usually so stealthy." Hermione grinned at George as he walked forward, taking his wife into his arms and hugging her gently, resting his cheek against her wet hair.

He was quite right, actually. What marked the difference between the pranks by the two sets of twins in the family was the creativity and the perfection with which the schemes were executed. Rose and Fred had become as good of pranksters as Fred and George, if not better. They not only designed pranks, but they always (excluding this time) executed them so perfectly that no one could ever prove it was them, although everyone knew. Even as children, they had managed to mess with people, their favorite trick being switching their identities. When they were young, they had matching wavy red hair, and Rose would purposefully keep short to match her brothers, making them only distinguishable by their eyes, unless you checked their underwear, which wasn't common practice. As they grew, however, their differences became marked enough that they couldn't switch any longer. The red haired baby boy had changed into a strapping teenager with shaggy, straight red hair, electric blue eyes, and so many freckles he almost looked tanned. In essence, he was the splitting image of his uncle and namesake. His sister had changed quite a lot as well. The bald baby that had become the redheaded toddler had grown into a willowy and beautiful young woman, with her father's blue-green eyes and freckles and her mother's curly hair, which was auburn, but looked flaming red in the sunlight. They did, however, share the same mischievous smile and the innocent expression that had gotten them out of innumerable detentions. Although they were the master pranksters of Hogwarts and had been reprimanded many a time for almost blowing up the Gryffindor common room, they were as brilliant as Hermione, but as seemingly lazy at the twins had been. Gifted with photographic memories, they could over material once and ace every test, aggravating their overachieving classmates, who fought tooth and nail to snatch the top spots away from the twins, to no avail.

Hermione smiled into George's shoulder before raising her head and kissing him softly on the cheek. "I suppose I should go finish my shower so I'll be ready for the Burrow tonight."

"Sure you don't need help with that?" growled George as he winked at Hermione.

"George!" Hermione giggled. "No, definitely don't need assistance with that. Thank you for the kind offer though." She grinned at him and laughed as she escaped his grasp around her waist. It was like they hadn't grown up since the day they married, and were still as madly in love now as they were then. Ginny blamed their constant energy and humor on the lack of scads of children running around, making their hair prematurely grey.

"I'll pretend I didn't just hear you offering to shower with Mum," said a sly voice from the hallway. George and Hermione looked over to see their daughter smirking, casually leaning on the doorframe, a letter held loosely in her hand. 'You've got a letter from Nana, Dad. Well, I think it's for both of you, but I'm sure Mum doesn't need to help you read it." She grinned at the admonishing look her father gave her, and walked away after handing off the letter, chuckling at her own wit.

"Well, that wasn't embarrassing," said George, smiling sheepishly at Hermione. She chuckled.

"What did you expect? They did inherit my wit."

"_Our_ wit," said George. "Honestly, woman, taking all the credit…" He trailed off, laughing as Hermione swatted him.

"I'm going to go. And you better not follow me. Think of the children!" She grinned at his as she left the room. George grinned after her before deciding to check on the twins. He first went into Rose's room, which had originally been the nursery. He walked in and saw that the walls were still covered with Luna's artwork, as well as many added paintings from Anomallie. The one wall that Luna had never finished, however, was barely visible, as it was wallpapered by blueprints that Rose had created for the pranks they had pulled and those that they were planning, including the joke products she and her brother had designed for the store. He smiled as he walked in to see his daughter hunched over her desk, her curly hair up in a messy bun with about ten pencils stuck in it, looking eerily like Hermione during her Hogwarts years.

"Hey Rosie, what are you working on?" he asked, sitting down on her bed. Rose turned to him, the magnification glasses she used in order to make minute details perched on the bridge of her nose, giving her the bug-eyed and slightly crazy look of Professor Trelawney. A laugh burst through his lips, making a loud _PPFFFFTT_ noise that Rose frowned at, which only made him laugh harder.

"DAAAAAAD!" she whined. "Come on!"

He choked, trying to stop laughing and calm himself with deep breaths. 'I'm sorry sweetie, but I can't take you seriously when you wear those. You look like the old bat."

Rose frowned at him before turning back around, saying, "Fine, then I won't tell you what I'm working on."

"Oh c'mon. Rosie, I'm sorry," he coddled. Rose sighed and turned back around, setting the glasses atop her head, which now joined the rainbow of pencils that were already perched there. She smiled excitedly at him as she showed him her latest drawing.

"It's a quill that is tuned to pick up a certain voice, kind of like a Quick Quotes Quill, except it writes down everything verbatim, so you could tune it to a professor's voice and it would take notes for you. You'd never miss something in class again!"

"Pretty great idea, but is this something you came up with so you can sleep in Binn's class?" He grinned at her.

"Dad, give me a little more credit than that! I have paper wars with Freddie during Binn's class!" That was another thing they had designed – a charm to turn your paper into certain animals, which then had battles. It was basically rock/paper/scissors to the extreme. George smiled and plucked a green pencil out of her bun.

"Here, you're missing something." He added a few notes, to which Rose exclaimed, "How could I have missed that!" and left her busy at work. He walked into the room next door and felt, as he always did, that he had walked into his and his brother's old room at the Burrow. The walls were covered with posters of his favorite quidditch teams, articles on improving techniques for beaters (Fred was training Sirius to become the newest beater on the Gryffindor quidditch team, as their other beater had graduated this past year), drawings of posters for items at WWW, and pictures of him and his friends. George saw his son stretched out on his bed, a quidditch magazine tented over his face.

"Freddie?" George whispered. There was no response. George slowly and gently pulled up one of the sides of the magazine, revealing his son's sleeping face. George chuckled quietly to himself and picked up the magazine, setting it on his son's desk. He leaned over and lightly kissed his son's forehead, but Fred slept on. Although George had basically healed from losing his twin, seeing his son, who looked like a clone of his uncle, twisted his heart sometimes. He smiled down at his son, and walked out quietly, closing the door as he left. He headed out to the living room, figuring he'd do some reading to while away the time before they had to leave for dinner at the Burrow tonight. He picked up the letter from his mother, which had lain abandoned on the coffee table. It was a quick note, asking them to bring a dessert and threatening to ban the twins from the table if they exploded her dinner one more time. George laughed at the letter and dropped it onto the table, smiling up at the ceiling.

"You've done well, Georgie," said a familiar voice. George looked over to see his brother smiling at him, pride evident in his face.

"You think so?" said George. Fred chuckled.

"I forgot. I was always the more self-assured."

"Oh naff off," said George, grinning.

"Seriously, though, mate. You've done well. You picked yourself up, shook yourself off, fell in love, and you have a wonderful family. And I'm just glad I can be here to see it in some respect. I envy you a bit, to be honest. But one of us had to be the responsible one and settle down and such. I always figured it would be you, and I guess I was right, although this wasn't the ending I planned. Obviously." Fred smiled at George, both with watery eyes.

"I'm glad you're here too, mate. As much as you can be."

"And don't worry, Rosie and Freddie will more than make up for us," said Fred grinning. "Because we figure, a little mayhem-"

"-is exactly what we need," finished George, smiling.


	38. Chapter 38

**Author's Note: **Oh my gosh, guys! Last chapter! I really want to thank everyone who took a chance on my story. I really truly appreciate all the reads. The reviews make my day, and I try to respond to as many as I can. I am so flattered by all of the follows and favorites, and again, I just want to say thank you! Keep your eyes peeled – a new story is coming up as well.

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"You'll never catch me!" (Albus)

"Sirius! Get back here, you git!" (Hugo)

"Faster, Albus, faster!" (Sirius)

"Wheeeee!" (Aurora)

"Rose, we can't let them beat us!" (Anomallie)

"Hugo, you have long legs! Run!" (Lily)

"Move your arse, James! The girls are winning!" (Fred)

"Freddie! You sodding bastard! You did that on purpose!" (Rose)

"Rose Jean Weasley! Watch your mouth!" (Hermione)

"August! You're gonna kill her! Slow down!" (Luna)

"VICTORY! WE WON! WE- AAAAUUUGGHHH!" (James)

_**CRASH!**_

The sound of trunks falling, luggage trolleys colliding, and bodies landing on a hard cement floor sounded just ahead of the Weasley and Potter families. Ginny grimaced, her eyes closing briefly.

"Why do they have to chose today of all days to wreak havoc?"

Harry sighed but smiled as he looked at his brother-in-laws. "How much you want to bet they've either broken a trolley or the ticket inspector's stand?"

George grinned. "I'm not taking that bet. Knowing them, they've probably broken both. And given some poor muggle a heart attack."

Ginny, Harry, Ron, and George finally caught up with all of the kids and two very exasperated mothers.

"Honestly, you all should know better! Not only in a muggle train station, but on the one day that it is packed to bursting? What were you thinking?" hissed Hermione.

George surveyed the scene in front of him. Fred, Sirius, Anomallie, Rose, and Lily were sprawled on the ground, having been flung off the trolleys when they had crashed. Hugo, James, and Albus were red in the face, leaning heavily on the handles of the trolley, having tried (unsuccessfully) to prevent the collision. Oddly, the only two who looked thoroughly unaffected were August and Aurora, who was surveying the scene from her perch in her brother's arms. Luna, wide-eyed and red-faced, was pulling the trolleys away in order to get to the bruised and moaning heap. Hermione was picking up fallen trunks, trying to clear up as quickly as possible, as the crash had attracted quite a crowd. George burst out laughing before joining to help everyone up. Once everyone was up and dusted off, Ginny demanded an explanation, looking so much like an angered Molly Weasley that no one tried to joke around.

"Well, we were racing-" began Sirius.

"-and everything was going fine-" continued James.

"-until Fred had to go and trip me as I was passing! Because he's a b-" said Rose, angrily.

"You liar! You're just a clumsy-" interjected Fred.

"You arse! I saw you stick your hand out and grab her leg! Don't you even try to-" started Anomallie, getting up and impatiently pushing hair out of her face.

"SO…" shouted Hugo, silencing everyone. "So, Rose fell and her trolley shot off target and flung Mallie off. The trolley crashed into Albus' trolley which flung Sirius off, which crashed into my trolley which flung Lily off, which crashed into James' trolley, which threw Fred off, and August's trolley…" He halted, looking over at August. "I actually have no idea how those two didn't get hurt." Everyone looked over at August, who was watching bemusedly.

"I pulled Aurora off and let go of the trolley," said August simply.

There was a beat of silence followed by Ron laughing heartily. "Well done, Gus. Your quidditch reflexes kicking in?" He ruffled August's hair.

"Now that we're all up and no one's seriously hurt, can we all proceed to the barrier like dignified human beings rather than a bumbling band of baboons?" asked Hermione.

"Yes," they all replied, thoroughly shamed.

…

Their ears filled with sound as they crossed through Platform 9 ¾. Owls hooted, cats yowled, students shouted, and parents said goodbyes as their children boarded the train. They were soon joined by Molly, Bill, Fleur, Victoire, and Teddy Lupin. Hugs were exchanged all around, though Luna looked as if she didn't want to let Aurora out of her arms, let alone her sight. Sirius and Albus teased as Molly fussed over pinning Hugo's new prefect badge, which he had been polishing since it arrived.

"Hey, where did Teddy go?" asked James, who considered Teddy to be an older brother.

"Probably saying goodbye to Victoire privately," said Rose, an evil grin spreading across her face.

Fred's face broke into an identical grin. "Yeah mate. Saying a _long_ goodbye, if you know what I mean."

"Freddie…" warned George.

"Sorry Dad," said Fred quickly, ducking his head.

…

As the families broke apart a bit to say last goodbyes, Hermione and George turned to their son and daughter.

"Now, I would tell you to be safe and don't get into trouble, but after four years, I know that would be optimistic to the point of foolishness. So, instead, don't injure yourselves or others, try not to blow anything up this year, and make sure to help Aurora with getting used to the castle."

"And keep an eye on Sirius and Albus," added George. "Merlin knows they can't go a month without at least one detention."

"And no sending home another Hogwarts toilet seat," added Hermione. "I know you think you're terribly clever and such, but now that Aurora's there, I'm sure we don't need any so-called 'memorabilia' being sent home."

George grinned over his wife's head at his son and daughter, having told them how he and Fred had tried to do the same thing for Ginny when she had been ten. They smiled and Freddie winked at his father when he knew Hermione couldn't see.

"I love you, Mum," said Fred, hugging Hermione. She wrapped her arms around him and held on tight, forcing him to let her kiss his forehead. "Mum! Honestly!" he said, looking around quickly to make sure none of his mates had seen his mother kiss him. She grinned at him, then turned to her daughter as Fred went to hug his father.

…

"Bye Dad."

"Freddie?"

"Yeah?"

"Take care of yourself this year. And take care of your sister."

"I will, Dad. I always do." Fred smiled and hugged his father.

"And Fred?"

"Yeah Dad?"

"Don't be too good this year." George winked at his son, whose face cracked into a mischievous smile.

"I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good." And with a wave, Fred ran off to find his friends on the train.

…

"Be safe, okay?" said Hermione, pushing a stray curl behind Rose's ear. "I'm counting on you to look out for everybody. Well, you and James." She switched to a whisper as she said in her daughter's ear, "Hugo's going to be a bit of a pain in the arse this year. I know. I was when I first became a prefect." Rose laughed and wrapped her arms around her mother's waist.

"I'm gonna miss you, Mum," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. She buried her face into her mother's shoulder. She always got a little homesick the first week or so, no matter how old she got.

"I know, angel," said Hermione, smiling down at the top of Rose's head. "Don't worry, though. You can always write me, and when the Hogsmeade weekends start, I can come up and meet you for lunch. Just our little thing. Sound good?"

Rose looked up and smiled. "I'd like that. Thanks Mommy," she said quietly.

Hermione kissed her on the cheek and gave her an extra hug. "Now say goodbye to your dad, the train's going to leave soon."

…

Rose wrapped her arms tightly about George's waist and buried her face into his chest, trying not to cry. George smiled, a little dewy-eyed, and stroked his daughter's hair. This had always been the hardest for him, saying goodbye to his little girl for basically nine and a half months at a time. He knew Fred would be fine, and would write him if anything was amiss, but he felt extremely protective over his daughter. He now truly understood how Mr. Granger had felt at the wedding. He never wanted to let her go. He wanted to go and protect her from any pain and cruelty that came her way. He wanted to protect her heart from stupid teenage boys and mean teenage girls. He knew he couldn't; that harsh reality hit him the first time he let her go off to Hogwarts. Hermione had had to use side-along apparition just to keep him from getting on the train with the kids. As he looked down at the top of his daughter's curly head, he smiled, knowing he would miss her, knowing it would hurt, and knowing there was nothing he could do about it. She had to grow up; he couldn't protect her from that.

"I love you, Daddy," Rose said shakily into his chest.

"I love you too, princess. More than you'll ever know." He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "You be safe this year, alright? Take care of everyone. Take care of yourself. And let me know if any of those stupid boys upset you or hurt you in any way, okay? There's a lot of land behind the Burrow. No one would ever find the body."

Rose chuckled. "I will, Daddy. I'll make sure you're the first to know if any boy is horrible. No promises it won't be family, though."

George hugged her tightly before letting her go. After hugging her mother one more time, she headed off to the train, whose whistle was starting, warning everyone to get aboard. She waved, and in a second, her curly hair had whipped out of sight. Hermione wrapped her arms around George's waist as she stood next to him, watching the scarlet steam engine slowly start to move. He wrapped his left arm around her shoulders and waved with his right.

"It never gets easier," said George wistfully.

"No. It never does," said Hermione quietly.

"We've come a long way," murmured George as he watched the train moving out of the station.

Hermione smiled. "War to marriage law to falling in love to today. With so much in craziness in between."

George smiled as the train made its way around a turn and disappeared from sight. There had been a lot of craziness. Almost twenty years of craziness. And he wouldn't have changed a thing.

All was well.

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_Fin._


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